Ants!

We’ve been invaded by ants. Specifically, those tiny little black ones that seem to appear every spring. As best I can figure, their little biological clocks are out of whack since they decided to appear well after Labor Day and are still hanging around some weeks later.


What’s disconcerting is that they don’t seem to be waning. When they first appeared they were in their usual location – following the edge of the countertop, across the front of the sink and toward the microwave. There were occasional disbursals along the way, depending on whether or not we’d forgotten and left something edible out.

It’s not a rare event, and not even that alarming. They come every spring like the flooding of the Nile. Usually I put out a few drops of some type of bait that contains Borax and they’re gone within 48 hours.

Not this time, though. It’s been weeks, and I daily refresh the bait cards, replenishing the clear drops where they line up around the edges, like cars at a 1950’s drive in as they sip at the little hooka bar which I’ve created for them. Unfortunately, they appear to have simply become lethargic, laughing at juvenile jokes and slapping the ant waiters / waitresses on the backside while copping a feel of their antenna as they walk by. My kitchen counter has, in effect, become a crack house for ants.  I am the cranky neighbor that keeps calling the police to complain about traffic and parking and noise.

This is not how it is supposed to work. They’re supposed to eat the bait, take it home to their wives and kids, and then all go to sleep and never wake up so they don’t come back into the kitchen. Instead, I’m beginning to suspect that some are hooked and I am their dealer except that I don’t have a tricked out SUV with those wheel covers that continue to twirl as the car sits at the light while my stereo causes the windows to rattle for a five block area as I drive by.

In the past I’ve tried other things to get rid of them. Herbal remedies that are laughable and toxic poisons make me afraid to afterward kneed bread dough on the counter for weeks afterwards. In a fit of pique I once sucked a large swarm of them up in the vacuum cleaner, which proved to be a decidedly unfortunate choice since I didn’t think afterwards to throw the bag out immediately and they were merely relocated to the hall closet and pissed as hell.

In the meantime, though, I’m hoping that it’s a problem that will resolve itself as soon as we get our first freeze. Otherwise, I may be destined to spend the winter feeding and clothing them in the warmth of the kitchen. One would only hope that they’re like a nice retired couple, fleeing the frozen north, and not the wild spring break kids looking for a place to party.