Thursday, March 22, 2012


This is our third spring in this house, and this will be our third battle with ants. I don't remember requesting that particular conveyance when we bought the house. Or the curtains. Yet there they are.

Anyway, they are not the scary giant irradiated kind of ants. But they are BOLD. Whilst lounging on the couch earlier today, I thought, "Huh, something on my wrist tickles." I looked down.

Agh! Ant!

One flick sent the scout sailing across my living room and I was back to my novel. But ick, right? Listen, I'm not a bugophobe or anything like that. I pinched cicadas off trees with them best of 'em in 1987 and 2004. This is the first year that they invaded my lazy space, though, and I'm not having it. Tonight, Super Ninja hosed down their normal party surfaces with Raid and more bug traps are on order.

I have a Plan B for the chemicals, though.

My daughter is the official bug cruncher in the house. She tracks the ants and the box elder beetles (a.k.a., stink bugs) that lazily kamikaze our lamps, squishes them, and scoops them up and pitches them in the garbage. There's no squealing, no histrionics, just a very business-like, methodical stalking and dispatching.

Hmm.  Maybe I should be worried about that?

1 comment:

Kate said...

When we were in the butterfly garden at the zoo two summers ago, Veronica and another girl were looking at butterflies. Then they both spent some time exclaiming over a lady bug. The bug landed, and Veronica IMMEDIATELY squashed it and moved on. I think she may have permanently traumatized that other little girl. Our daughters are fierce-we might as well encourage it.