Can I just fill you in on the ant situation in my house? If you are my friend on Facebook, you are probably tired of hearing "THEY"RE EATING ME ALIVE!"
But I am still stewing. Mostly because I am completely and utterly unable to use my dishwasher. That makes me more than a bit crabby.
You see, it all started a few weeks ago when The Husband finally got around to mowing the back lawn. (we're not outdoorsy people, so we ignore our yard in general) The Husband comes back in hopping mad. He throws off his shoes (Crocs that I made him get because he was mucking up his nice "running" shoes that I happen to like very much) to reveal the mangled flesh that used to be his feet. The ants had made an example out of him. They had finished him off around the ankles, leaving him with a spotty massacre to walk about on. I went out there to inspect what was going on. There it was- by the sprinkler head- the grass had stopped growing in that corner. Because of the gigantic anthill. The anthill that had FIVE openings. There were worker/biter ants swarming about, seething in their rage at the man who had come to clip the grass.
It was a lot of ants, people. But they were relatively contained to the left corner of our yard. I told the young 'uns to stay behind the tree, lest they get swallowed whole by the ants. I wrote "ant traps" on the Target list. That was it. Little did I know I was doing the equivalent of writing a nasty letter to the Taliban and then going on to sit about on my hands.
At the next Target run, I stared at the small endcap that held all things pest-control related. It was a small selection. I could either get the Raid or Combat brand of little plastic thingies that doled out the poison to kill the entire nest. The Combat box had a whopping 12 traps... and cost a dollar more. I bought the Raid telling myself that I wouldn't need twelve traps! That was just too many ant traps! When I got home, I dropped two of the four ant traps in the general vicinity of the mole hill (ahem, ant hill) and went about my business. I think I even checked on the traps and watched the little drones go in and out, taking poison to the queen. Fantastic. Let's go do some more laundry!
I had all but forgotten the ant problem festering the backyard.
I was making a bottle for Little Man, and I saw a wee little ant scurry across the counter. I flicked him into the sink and tried my hardest not to dwell on it. As I completed the process of assembling the bottle, I saw another ant dash along the side of the cabinet. Two ants in less than a minute. There was a problem here.
But not to worry! I had two extra ant traps! Er, well. I theoretically had two extra traps. I forgot where I had placed the remaining two. So I calmed down. It was hard work, but I tried to reassure myself that seeing two ants did not mean an invasion. It was just happenstance. Surely I had killed them all off in the backyard. There were no survivors. I had done... well the bare minimum... but still!
I mentioned it to The Husband as I unloaded the dishes from the dishwasher. "I saw two ants in the house today. I'm kinda worried. It might be happening again." ("It" is the time in which we had just recently moved in and the ants attacked our sweet little cottage with tenacity. There were ants in my cereal as I poured it. My counters looked like they were moving - an odd optical illusion with speckley counters and masses of ants. "It" was only spoken of in hushed tones within dark alley ways. We had seen things- ants had- at one point almost driven us from our freshly minted 30 year mortgage)
It was then I looked down, ready to grab another plate from the washer. Ants. Everywhere with the ants. All over my clean dishes.
This was war. They had mounted a siege and had already successfully taken the kitchen island as their stronghold. (which is where I dock the laptop- thus every time I was frittering time away on the internet, I was invariably being scaled by tiny ants- which makes one post "language" on Facebook) They had been cleverly laying in wait, making secret tunnels in the yard. They had claimed the entire property without me even knowing it. Now it was time to move on to the inside. They wanted air conditioning too. I had been blindly sitting upon my ivory tower- blissfully unaware of the uprising in my own (literally) backyard!
It's been three days... and it seems like I am living in the freaking stone age! I understand this must sound terribly appalling to all you poor saps who live day in and day out without the assistance of an automatic washing device. But let me tell you- dishwashers are vital to my sanity. I have been washing all our dishes in the sink about twelve million times a day. (in hopes of starving the ants out) The dishwasher is currently housing two different brands of traps, (as I'm mildly sure they have developed an immunity to the first brand of poison-bait) which is probably a colossally bad idea- but I'm desperate for this to be over. Right now I can spot about three ants wandering around the island counter. (of course I don't just move my laptop. I whine about it. Why should I move? I was here first!) I have to hide the traps because the dogs will chew them up. So my retaliation tactics are quite limited. I bought the twelve-pack of traps, only to find I have few places to put them. I have scoured the backs of the bait boxes to see if there is a timeline. No no clue how long this battle will last. Thankfully, I have managed to keep the other counters from these marauders. But I don't know how long I can hold them off for. Die ants! Die!
Yes. That was an entire post about ants. And how they are making my life a living hell.