Viva la revolution!
There was an ant uprising in our kitchen yesterday. Ants are one notch above cockroaches. I hate that swarming thing they do where they all jump into one big pile like they're at a Rancid show or something and run all over each other. Have they never been introduced to the concept of personal space?
So after spending a little quality time with the internet, I walked into the kitchen and there were about forty or fifty tiny ants running gleefully toward and on top of something that probably fell out of Henry's mouth during snacktime. I'm surprised he doesn't have a constant line of ants following him around everywhere with little hearts buzzing around their heads. I had to resist the urge to jump up on a chair and commence shrieking. Then I had to resist the urge to call Dave and commence shrieking.
I grabbed a couple of paper napkins and frantically tried to goosh them, but had only moderate success. I thought about my possible options, and finally settled on squirting them with 409. And it worked. And I now feel incredibly guilty. I mean, what a way to go. Poor ants.
Really, incredibly, enormously guilty.
Sigh.