Win a battle, lose a war

Are you sick of ants yet? One last post, and then I'm done with the ants, I promise.

After finding ants in every room, in places I've never seen ants before in the ten years I've lived in the Love Shack, I realized that extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. What do you do when you are faced with possible extinction? I don't know about you, but I turn to the Internet. Yep. A couple days ago, I threw myself on the mercy of the Google gods and queried the Oracles for a remedy for ants.

I've done this before, lest you think I'm a total slacker. I may be past middle age, but I am not from the middle ages. I'm quite adept at looking up stuff on the Internet. Periodically I've sought remedies for ant invasions. That is how I found out about diatomaceous earth, which is rarely mentioned on ant remedy sites, I've noticed. Some people reported luck with a spray of vinegar, some sprinkled coffee grounds inside and out, or dribbled lines of cayenne pepper or scrubbed the floor with lemon. All great ideas. In my limited experience, however, the smell-good remedies don't smell bad enough to drive the ants from my kitchen. I can hear them laughing. Or maybe that's the cat.

This time I went online looking for some bigger guns. Instead of passive deterrence, I wanted a more aggressive weapon, something decisive, but preferably non-toxic to everything but ants. I want to win the war. I found a variety of suggestions, a few of which (very few) made me cringe. Pouring boiling water in the ant nest? Really? Ugh, I don't think I could do that, even if I could find their nest. The only ant nest I've ever seen was a plastic-covered ant farm when I was about seven. Hell, knowing my luck, the ant farms that are sending soldiers to the Love Shack are located directly under my bathtub. And my kitchen sink. And my bed. There might even be an ant nest in my hat, now that I think about it. I certainly find scouts on my neck often enough.

I decided to try the vinegar spraydown, since I have a bottle of white vinegar and a sprayer thingie. There were a few scouts reconnoitering the counter. I mowed them down using a wide-angle spray. The ants stopped moving, submerged in vinegar, which would probably be my response, too, were I subjected to the same indignity. Ouch, I imagine. I sprayed the splashback behind the sink and waited to see what would happen.

An hour later the place was swarming. What the—! Did I use apple cider vinegar by mistake? I know these guys love apples. I checked the label on the bottle: nope, white vinegar, the cheapest kind. Good for soaking the fungus from your fingernails and toenails, in case you are so plagued. What's with the vinegar fest on my counter? I theorized that the ants had dissolved into the vinegar, creating a kind of ant-flavored...uh, salad dressing? Tasty to other ants, perhaps? I don't know. I wiped the whole thing down with a sponge and walked away in disgust.

This morning I swept up a few scouts with my dusty powdery paintbrush with callous disregard for ant well being. I was ready to deed the kitchen to the ants and walk away. I got busy doing other things, and this afternoon, when I went into the kitchen... there wasn't an ant to be seen.

You know how things seem darkest before the dawn? This isn't one of those times, I'm pretty sure. This is more like that eerie moment right before the tsunami hits, when the water in the bay rushes out to the ocean and you can prance with the starfish next to the high-and-dry boats. While you are dancing, the water comes rushing back in and sweeps your village out to sea.

I think this is the calm before the tsunami. I'm trying to enjoy it. I've seen a few scouts today, just a handful. I peer at them. Did the vinegar leave a residue that is keeping the army at bay? Is it the rain? Did the landlord come round and surreptitiously nuke the ant nests with agent orange? I don't know. I'm afraid to question, for fear this calm will evaporate under a tsunami of ants.

Hey! While I'm blogging, what is that thing running around the edge of my glasses? What! I'm going to trash this entire post. I just found an ant on my glasses. I think the honeymoon is over. The final invasion is starting. Tomorrow I am going to buy some Borax and some sugar, mix them together, and put the resulting poison in plastic containers covered with plastic lids. I am going to poke little holes in the lids, and then I am going to put the deadly little tubs under my sink, in my cupboards, and outside below my kitchen window.

Watch me press the red button. Here I go. Five... four... three... two...