Ant invasion

I have very few hangups (I like to think). My freshman year in college (actually, all my years in college), I lived with mice, cockroaches, and various other pests semi-happily. There is one bug, however, that I cannot stand: the dreaded ant.

I couldn't bear to put up a picture of a real ant, so here's a Pixar-ified version. Much more palatable, I think.

I don't know why this is exactly; it could be the swarming, or the many invasions that happened at my house growing up, or the way they get into food, but when I see ants, I immediately think that they are everywhere. I can feel them in my hair, all over my body, and I picture them everywhere in the house. Suddenly, every piece of lint or dust or dirt is an evil scout ant, silently communicating with the rest of his buddies that my house is a good place to live.

When I saw the ants for the first time a couple weeks ago, I screamed so loudly that Will ran into the kitchen thinking I had cut off my finger or my hair was on fire. He was relieved it was just ants. I wasn't. I then proceeded to have a mini-breakdown.

I never thought I'd complain about the warm weather (and I am still hesitant to do so) but the warm weather has awakened the ants from their winter rest and they have decided that my house is their newest frontier. Gladly, it will also be their final frontier thanks to the medley of ant poison I've created.

I will win this battle, if it's the last thing I do. Or, I suppose, I will fight until we move in eight weeks. You know, whichever comes first.