I now speak Hebrew with confidence. Too much confidence.
This morning when Bob asked when the exterminator would be here I answered casually,
Od me-ah.
He’ll be here in another hundred?
Um, well, something like that but sooner.
Od me-at.
Yes, od me-at.
My exterminator has me sized up. If I call complaining about harbeh nimalim (a lot of ants) he knows there are somewhere between 2 and 7 ants. He jokes with me, even.
Elef nimalim, nachon? (A thousand ants, right?).
Nachon! I joke back.
Today was a different story. I had called my exterminator in tears last week when I woke up to a bajillion ants under my kitchen sink. When Bob woke up to the news, delivered by Asher very matter of factly, that there were a bajillion ants and mommy is crying, he first asked about the exterminator.
He—can’t—come—until—Sunday, I answered, between sobs.
Why are there cups of sugar tipped over on the counter?
Asher set traps for the ants.
And so, today, four days after a bajillion jihading red ants tried to take over my kitchen only to be stopped in their tracks by Bob who can deal with jihading red ants but not with a sobbing wife, we (I?) woke up with excitement. The exterminator was on his way!
Once he arrived we told him all about the ants – where they came from, how many there were (Harbeh! Elef! A bajillion!), and how Bob got some poisonous honey to use against them – as if the exterminator were going to record it all for posterity. He smiled and asked if there were any ants left?
Um, well, maybe there are some newly dead ones under the sink?
Later the exterminator called. He was looking for his hat. Maybe you left it in the back of your rekevet, I told him confidently.
Bob smiled as I hung up.
I really like that exterminator.
Me too.
I just told him his hat is in the back of his train, didn’t I?
Yup.
Thought so.
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