Ants go marching…

I came to bed tonight to get ready at a reasonable time (10 p.m.) and blog a little when I found an insane amount of ants on my window sill. No food was actually ON the window sill, but they must have sensed the crumbs I spilled on the floor near my bed 2 days ago (I could’ve sworn I cleaned it all up!) or maybe they could smell the leftover yogurt residue in my Stoneyfield cup on the dresser from last night. Whatever the case, I should probably stop eating in my bedroom because this invasion was completely unwelcome.


They weren’t nearly as pleasant as these cartoon characters…

I really hate killing ants. Killing anything, really. I was never one of those evil children burning bugs with my magnifying lens (actually, I never even had a magnifying lens, but that’s besides the point…). Death has always just been a sad event I don’t like taking part in. I’m still not sure if ants can feel pain, but what I do know is I don’t want them crawling all over me in my sleep, and since they were right by my bed (some of them even swan diving into my sheets), I made an executive decision to become executioner for dozens of ants. But not without trying to repel them in some kind of natural way. The internet led me to the “discovery” that ants dislike black pepper. So I ran downstairs, grabbed my spices and set to work. Sure, they ran away a little and scattered a bit as I poured it over the area, but they certainly didn’t retreat back to where they came from. It only seemed to aggravate them, really.

Lacking any vinegar or lemon juice or borax (the other “natural” recommendations), I took matters into my own hands and began a-squashin’. At first I felt awful about it, and then it just kind of became a motion. Follow ant along window sill, squash with finger, find next ant, and so on and so forth. I noticed some of them were coming in through small cracks between the wall and sill, so I poured water into the edge where they meet to see if I could figure out where they were coming in through exactly. I found about 3 large cracks through which the water would run down and into my walls, god knows how far deep since we’re on the second floor. It seemed alright for a while until all of a sudden panicked ants began shooting out of these cracks. So bam, bam, bam went my tissue-covered fingers, ending the lives of these unwelcome invaders. Whenever I kill ants, I wonder if that’s how a god would feel about killing us. No real deep thought or emotion, just going through the motions of having to do something they deemed necessary for the greater good. If there is a god, I’m pretty sure they’re closer to that than the gods we’ve created in the past few centuries.

After a while, the killing got old. Their numbers got smaller in size, but whenever they did send out a troop of reconnaissance ants, they’d always get squashed flat by me. I went to pull JB away from the Oakland game to find me some real repellant, which he happened to be keeping in the living room. Looks like it’s working, ’cause I haven’t seen a damn ant since. Then again I am sitting on the far end of the bed only half-glancing at the window. Whatever the case, hope that’s the end of them.


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