A quote from my favorite social commentary err I mean reality show I mean....? from that gator huntin' show, "there's a shooter". Yep. Ima goin' ant huntin'.
So here I am, nursing some two-buck chuck fine wine (yay for ear infections.....yes....adults get them, lucky me. alcohol might kill the pain or make me forget about it) and I see an ant in my kitchen. You bastards! I HATE ants. I used to have nightmares as a child of a wall full of ants. In high school I had a pile of girl magazines, you know, Cosmo, Teen Beat, in a box. I went to take some "does that hot hunk think your totally awesome flannel and bonne bell chap stick makes you date-able quiz and holy f*#k ants. Not just ants but a NEST of CARPENTER ants. My dad, an ex biker, had to crush them between his steel toed "sh!t kickin'" boots...TWICE to kill those suckers. A nest. Full. of. huge. non-killable. ants. I screamed, threw the box out my two story windoe (nearly killing my dad who was outside in the process) and ran downstairs screaming and crying and my mom said "umm there's something on your shorts" and I whacked my newly shorn jeans-gone-shorts violently like a mad woman (it was only a loose string.)
So today...back to today, well, tonight. I am nursing my glass of wine and see an ant. Then two. Where do they live? I have been putting down ant bait for two days, religiously, dawn and dusk outside, going out every few hours to relish in them stacked up like a creepy moving block of black exoskeleton nightmares, lapping up poison...yes...drink it...chug it!! die! And so I try and figure out, where do I leave poison in my kitchen? I watch them intently, stopping to itch myself, yay psychology, every few seconds. I sip my wine and watch. For 20 minutes. The same two ants wiggle around the same damned counter tile. For being intelligent creatures that leave scent trails and all, I found the village idiots. One wiggles with his butt to the tile in circles for ten minutes before joining the other, clicking antenna, and going back to the idiot dance. Then! Then! A new ant pops up and dashes to the florescent light. I think, you must live in there....but I'm too scared of a nest to open the light fixture, so I pour some poison nearby and wait...
I pour another glass, realize I'm an alcohol wimp, pour it into the sink, check my bait (no ants, boo) and go off to blog.