So I can write about Springtime, showing up with her skirts and sandals and then after a wonderfully elaborate teasing session leaving us for almost two weeks of 45-55 degree weather of grey skies and cloudiness.
I need to write about our big wonderful brand new couch of which we and everyone who visits us is so very enamored.
I need to post the one about traveling in a car for over six hours (ONE WAY) with three boys just so I could meet out my dream of seeing Kevin Smith live.
I’ve got another Beguilements that’s not-so-patiently waiting to be posted.
I should tell you about Ben’s band arc, playing their first big show for Apocalyptica two weeks ago. And the other big shows they’ve got lined up for this Friday and the next.
I could just tell you about how we’ve been so very busy lately and I feel bad about not regularly posting.
But I’ve just got much too big a case of the hibbie jibbies (official diagnosis) to really think about much else other than this SUPREMELY gross fact:
We have ants, TONS of ants, in our bathroom; and we lured them there.
(Can I please get a huge interweb collective “EEEWWWWWWW!!!” from everyone?)
The first coldish (I know I’ve got anyone living up North getting mad at me for calling 50 degrees coldish right now when you guys are still fighting off winter awfulness) day we had since Spring started, we both noticed we kept finding a random ant running around the house; sometimes in the living room, sometimes on the laptop, sometimes in our bathroom, rarely in our kitchen, and it has always been just one random ant sighting a day, sometimes less than that. Then last Sunday, I noticed that there were about a dozen ants milling around our bathroom, all kind of by the air vent. [We’re still not sure if they’re coming from the air vent, if our turning the heat back on blew them up through the air vent, if they’re seeking the warmth of the air vent, or if I can use the words “air vent” any more in this sentence.] We decided we’d better try and figure out a way to protect our house before we end up with a full-scale invasion.
Of course, my first reaction is always find the most toxic poison we can, spray our house down and protect our little dog in the process.
Ben wanted to try a natural home remedy first. He soaked cotton balls in a mixture of hot water, borax, and sugar. We then placed them in our bathroom (by the air vent) and waited. The theory being that the ants will be lured in by the sugar, take minuscule bits back to their queen and the borax will kill the whole colony [cue: Maniacal Laughter]. Unfortunately, this also means that you need to let the ants come and get the borax. So Sunday night, we didn’t really see any ants, around 10:00 AM on Monday morning a few started milling about the cotton balls, but as the day wore on, we began to see ants, lots and lots and lots of ants. It makes my skin crawl. All those teeny-tiny black bodies milling around my boudoir is filthy-looking.
Ben says we need to wait to make sure the ants are collecting enough to supply their colony and feed their queen. When I asked him how long that would be he said, “I dunno. Until we stop seeing so many ants, I guess.” How very scientific.
All I want to do is scrub down my bathroom. It’s all I think about. I guess it could be worse, when I worked at The Worst Place in the Whole World located in Scumbag Central, people would come in with roaches crawling in their stuff AND ON THEM. And our last house had a major camel cricket problem, which is super creepy as they can jump on you. So ants, given prospective, aren’t that bad. But I’m still confused as why we’re not really seeing them in the kitchen. Ben even placed two cotton balls on our countertops and we haven’t seen or collected a single ant there.
Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I am going to go scrub my skin off with a brick and lye soap.