Ant Apocalypse

At least that's what the little ant survivors called the variety of poisons sent their way last night.

Yesterday morning (yes, I had to go to work because we only had a Spring Pause), I stumbled into the bathroom in my house in the wee morning hours (5:39...I hit snooze) only to find what one would consider to be an inordinate number of ants. Ants! Ants?! In the bathroom?! I let out a little shriek (only a little one because Mama needs 45 uninterrupted minutes to get ready, and can't have small children using the toilet and "forgetting" not to flush when the shower's running). Then I proceeded to empty pretty much a whole can of Lysol on their scrawny thoraxes. So the ants were gone, and I finished getting ready as usual. Problem solved, right?

Oh, if only my life were so simple. Spraying the dickens out of the ants would have worked. So, around 9:00 I get a text from the DH that reads, "Stop at the store and get everything they have to kill ants." Apparently asphyxiating myself this morning did not do the job and DH is equally creeped out by unexplained insects. After school, I stopped at Wal-Mart where I purchased spray, ant traps, and these little repelling sticks for the exterior ground. Exterminate much? After the a quick run through at McDonald's for dinner (it was Cubscout night after all-and do I have a story to tell), I started the annihilation of our insect visitors. All I needed were some white coveralls, and I could have been hired on the spot for a back-up job with Orkin.

So $16.62 later the ants are gone. I am not using insane amounts of disinfectant. All is well.