The Ants Go Marching

I _thought_ I was winning. Three days of only seeing one or two ants per day, of obsessively vacuuming and Swiffering the kitchen floor once in the morning and once in the evening, of keeping the sinks empty, the counters clear and clean and full of Simple Green-y goodness, of thinking that maybe, maybe the bait and the traps were finally kicking in…

And then the little bastards go and ruin the illusion.

Last night, I walked into the kitchen and flipped on the lights and heard a very, very faint… crackling. It sounded like Rice Krispies would sound if they were tiny. It was coming from the soda bottle. Snap, crackle, pop. What the heck?

The ants. The little tiny ants were chewing on the plastic lid with their little tiny mandibles. Some had found ant heaven and there were little tiny bloated ghost-like ants floating in the root beer. Some were merrily working their way towards that goal. ANTS!

So we will surround the house with a layer of bait a mile thick… again. The battle was lost, the war goes on.

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