Ants Marching
I have a small ant problem.
About two years ago, I was standing in my kitchen when I noticed a tiny little ant crawling across the counter. And then another. And another. As my eyes followed the line of ants marching determinedly single file up the wall and through the crack in the door, I realized it was more than just an ant problem, it was full-scale invasion.
I declared war.
I bought an industrial size can of Raid; they hid out for a day until the fumes cleared. I bought fancy little ant motels they never checked into. I scrubbed every inch of my counter with bleach; they held a parade to celebrate. One morning, as I hurried to get ready for work, I poured myself a bowl of my beloved generic raisin bran cereal. Out poured hundreds of the little buggers, who had somehow found their way across the floor and up the shelves to the box.
Finally, after several weeks of intense battle, they started to disappear. Until this spring, when they began to show up again in the sink. It's like Ant War II, except this time they've recruited more troops and bought bigger guns. Not only are they in the sink and on the counter, but they're up in the bathroom (!?) hanging out. They've taken a liking to Casey's dog food, and every day I have to fish ant caracasses out of her water dish. (If it's any consolation to me, I think she just eats the damn things.) But the worst insult came last night, when I walked to the kitchen door to make some dinner and saw...
...a literal SEA of ants spanning the entire kitchen floor.
All right, you little assholes, it's war you want? It's war you've got... the assault begins NOW.
Bring it.
About two years ago, I was standing in my kitchen when I noticed a tiny little ant crawling across the counter. And then another. And another. As my eyes followed the line of ants marching determinedly single file up the wall and through the crack in the door, I realized it was more than just an ant problem, it was full-scale invasion.
I declared war.
I bought an industrial size can of Raid; they hid out for a day until the fumes cleared. I bought fancy little ant motels they never checked into. I scrubbed every inch of my counter with bleach; they held a parade to celebrate. One morning, as I hurried to get ready for work, I poured myself a bowl of my beloved generic raisin bran cereal. Out poured hundreds of the little buggers, who had somehow found their way across the floor and up the shelves to the box.
Finally, after several weeks of intense battle, they started to disappear. Until this spring, when they began to show up again in the sink. It's like Ant War II, except this time they've recruited more troops and bought bigger guns. Not only are they in the sink and on the counter, but they're up in the bathroom (!?) hanging out. They've taken a liking to Casey's dog food, and every day I have to fish ant caracasses out of her water dish. (If it's any consolation to me, I think she just eats the damn things.) But the worst insult came last night, when I walked to the kitchen door to make some dinner and saw...
...a literal SEA of ants spanning the entire kitchen floor.
All right, you little assholes, it's war you want? It's war you've got... the assault begins NOW.
Bring it.
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