Arsenal

For two days last week we had ants. In our pantry. The tiniest brown ants you can imagine - they didn't even look like ants. Squishing them gave me no satisfaction because they just looked like miniscule crumbs with legs. They were everywhere on one shelf. In every box and every container. Crackers. Cookies. Peanut butter. Cereal. The only thing they steered away from was a bottle of minced onions. I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to hang out with an onion bit that's bigger than me either. They didn't travel to the shelf above them. I'm not sure if they just didn't know that they could go up there, or maybe it was too long a journey for them. Either way, the problem was localized.

So we set about the task of killing them. We bought poison ant houses and ant annihilation spray. Those things together seemed to do the trick.

Before we upped the anti J tried to kill them with Windex. She's a close second to me, another one of the stupidest smart people I know. That being said, I was right behind her when she sprayed the stuff all over the place, helpfully pointing out where she missed a spot. At midnight, anything starts to seem like a viable tactic. Wars are probably lost by strategies plotted at midnight.