In my efforts to defend my turf, I periodically reinforce the barricade around my compost bucket with a wall of diatomaceous earth, which I understand for an ant (or any crawling insect) is quite painful, like swallowing pins while walking on broken glass. White powder runs the length of the counter and surrounds the microwave. The place looks like a debauched baker got carried away with the wheat flour. Of course, if you know me, you know that we are gluten-free here at the Love Shack. So it's more likely to be anthrax than wheat flour. (Kiddding.) In any case, once it gets wet, the diatomaceous earth is no longer effective. Then it clumps into handy little stepping stones for ants to more easily forage among the tasty detritus around my sink.
Last night I found a dozen ants congregating in my bathtub. The cabal broke up when I swooped in with a sponge. Now, I don't mind sharing my space with well behaved critters. I'm all about live and let live (as long as you stay out of my bed). I'm sorry to say, some of them ended up floating in the soap scum. I don't like to see any creature suffer, but let's be realistic. It's pretty damn hard to save every drowning ant, especially when they are hell bent on invading my bathtub. What can you do? Well, the good news: So far they have avoided my toothbrush. I take that as a sign that I've finally found a toothpaste that doesn't appeal to ants (and dentists).
While I was on the phone today with my friend V., two ants skittered across the back of my neck. I assumed they got on the mass transit system (my fleece shirt) in the kitchen, planning to get off in the living room, where they no doubt intend to watch television or surf the Web. However, V. said something that led me to believe that ants are dive-bombing onto my head from the ceiling! I can't see them, but they are sneaky, as I have already pointed out. I wouldn't be surprised if they have little cloaks of invisibility.
Desperate times call for drastic measures. (Coincidentally just in time for Easter) I'm in the process of inventing a hat shaped like a wide flat bucket. I have plenty of cardboard. I intend to fill the hat with diatomaceous earth. The stuff isn't heavy, so that won't be a problem. It's a bit dusty, though, so I might have to wear a face mask. Small inconvenience if it keeps the ants off my neck. Have I mentioned, those little f--kers bite!
While patrolling the kitchen, I captured two scouts exploring the cat food area. I don't know how they got through. They must have had inside information. I've got the whole cat food area diatomaceously dusted... under the rug, around the edges, all along the window sill, and under the elevated platform on which the cat food dishes are placed—in water filled dishes that serve as moats. (We aren't kidding around here at the Love Shack.) And still the ants have infiltrated my defenses. They are either kamikaze sky-divers, or they are spirit ants from a parallel universe. Either way, I'm fighting a losing battle. If I don't post again within the week, send in the fumigators and save my cat.
