I hate ants. I make no secret of this hatred. And it’s not just ants either. I really dislike most bugs, however, 99% of the members of the insect world have the decency to stay out of my house. Sure, occasionally I see a spider or two, especially if I wander into the basement. About once ever six months, a silverfish will cross my path. Sure, about once a week I have to stop my son, the bug whisperer, from bringing a rolly poly, slug or glow worm inside with him, but usually all it takes is a stern look and the critter is returned back to it’s grassy home.
Other than that though, my house’s lack of creepy crawlies is a serious blessing to me.
Lately, however, we’ve been getting a lot of rain. And that means ants. And lots of them. I have no idea what the ants are drawn to, but nothing I do seems to stop them. The good news, is that the pesky little jerks only seem to terrorize me in the kitchen. The bad news is that they are in my kitchen, which is pretty much the last place I want any other living creature (including other humans, when I cook, I like to do it on my own, it’s sort of a Zen-like thing).
At first there was just an ant or two wandering around on my counter. I crushed them, washed their corpses down the drain and didn’t think too much about them. However, they must have used their dying breaths to call out to their breather to avenge them. It does not seem to matter how many of them I kill, I swear two more spring up in their place.
At first I thought it might be the dishes in the sink. We don’t let our dishes “soak” for days or anything, but my husband and I have an agreement when it comes to chores. I cook the food and he does the dishes. For me, this is great as I actually enjoy cooking and HATE doing dishes. He doesn’t really like to do either, but as cooking takes a lot longer, he gave in to the dishes. In attempt not to do additional housework (I do about 80% of it and have a full time job), I will sometimes leave breakfast dishes in the sink for him.
When I found a plate with a tiny scrap of cheese on it covered in ants, I immediately nixed this idea and made sure each dish, pan and utensil found it’s way either into the dishwasher or was washed directly after the meal.
That seemed to stop them. I noticed only one or two on the counters and I thought I had one. But I was a fool. A fool I tell you! The little bastards found their way into the trashcan underneath our sink. Apparently the children had been throwing fruit pits and sucker sticks in there and the can was lousy with ants. I yanked it out, double wrapped the bag, threw it outside and then completely washed the garbage can. It is still resting outside on my back patio since I’ve decided it can no longer live under the sink just in case someone forgets and throws food there.
Once again, like a fool I though this would help. The crafty little buggers have found a new haunt: the dishwasher. I opened it up to load in the dinner dishes and there must have been two dozen of them in there. I threw the dishes in, popped in a soap tablet and turned it on, but not before one of them found it’s way onto my arm. Even though I know I killed him, I keep feeling phantom traces of his dirty little feet all over my arms.
This is why I hate ants. I know they don’t really do any “harm,” but just seeing them crawling around makes my skin crawl. I feel them on me, even when I know they can’t be.
I have no idea how they are getting in, but I have to find a way to stop them. War has been declared and I will be victorious!
Either that or I’m going to have to abandon my kitchen to them.