Man, have I found a way to ruin a perfectly good Sunday afternoon.

It all started when I borrowed a neighbor's ladder. I needed the ladder to clean out my gutters, because they get clogged with leaves and create a mini-Niagra on my roof whenever it rains. I was also going to install these little screens over the gutters so that leaves would never again be able to inhabit my gutters. Sadly, this makes for an exciting day for me now.

But I only have a regular old ladder, one that does not come anywhere near the height I need to reach the gutters. I am very careful to use only ladders that are designed to reach those kind of heights, because I once got myself in a bit of a pickle using a ladder that was too short for the roof (Editor's note: The dummy got stuck on his roof).

So I decided to borrow a neighbor's ladder. He has an extension ladder that would easily lead me up to the roof, and presumably back down, which was the problem with the previous ladder experience.

I lugged the ladder over into the backyard and proceeded to extend it up to my roof. At that point, I felt some debris falling down on me. No big deal, I thought. It was just dirt. I was doing manly, outdoor work, so the dirt only added to my manly appearance.

And then the dirt started stinging me. My entire right arm felt like it was getting jabbed with bunches of red hot needles. Apparently, my brain's pain sensors are not connected to my brain's logic sensors, because my first reaction was just to stare down at my arm for a minute, all the while the searing pain was building.

While I was starting, I noticed that the dirt was also moving, crawling around all over my arm. Apparently the other part of my brain came in from it's coffee break and screamed, "Fire ants!!!!"

My arm was covered in fire ants, and judging from the pain on my head and neck, they were having a big old time in my hair, too. The ants had built a cozy little nest in the ladder, and were now little angry airborne rangers, bringing an all-out attack on the target.

I did what any calm, collected person would do in a crisis. I began screaming and running around my backyard, peeling off my clothes and screaming, "Fire ants!!! Fire ants!!!" as if the police are on standby for just such an emergency and would come rappelling into my backyard from helicopters.

After I had stripped down to what can only be considered inappropriate backyard attire, I went tearing upstairs. I ran into the bedroom, where my wife and daughter were.  I opened the conversation with, "Get 'em off me!!! Get 'em off me!!!" My wife's first reaction was to move our daughter a safe distance from her freaking-out father.

"Get what off of you?" she said. Maybe she thought I was having some Woodstock flashback, despite the fact that Woodstock was held three years before I was born. I frantically told her what had happened, all the while slapping my arms and neck and dancing around like a fool, which my daughter thought was absolutely wonderful fun. In fact, she actually clapped and said, "YEAH!!!!"

My wife directed me to the shower. I turned on the shower and stood there. My wife asked me what I was waiting for. I told her the water wasn't warm. She made the point that cold water probably felt better than fire-ants. Hmmm. Good point.

After cleansing myself of my little attackers, I focused on dealing with the damage. People in my family do not react well to animal stings and bites, so I was just assuming that my windpipe was about to revert to pipe cleaner size. I told my wife to call my father, for whom fire ant bites are only slightly better than gunshots. He said that I should immediately soak the bitten parts in cold water and take an antihistamine. Fortunately, my wife's impatience with the hot water had already taken care of the cold water part.

Eventually, I moved downstairs to the kitchen sink, where I submerged my entire arm in ice water. By this time, my arm had swelled up to look like a nice fat sausage. But the ice water did stop the stinging pain, which was my ultimate short-term goal. I popped an antihistamine, and kept my arm in the water as long as I could. After a short while, the swelling went back down, although the antihistamine apparently contains ether, because in about 20 minutes I could have gone to sleep anywhere, including in the middle of a fire ant mound. On the package, it told me not to operate heavy machinery. That warning should say, "When you take this medicine, go lie down. Don't operate anything. You're done. Clear your schedule. Night-night."

The next morning, I woke up to find that I had indeed survived, which was a nice bonus. My arm was a little sore, but that should pass soon enough. I still haven't cleaned out the gutters, but they must just have to wait. For one thing, I'm still a little drowsy.