Lemme preface this by saying I am an animal lover.  I've rescued 2 dogs.  I am guardian to a beta.  I had a parakeet for years.  I was a bio major, and teach kids about nature and to appreciate the world around them.  I've even let kids bring snakes in and do reports on them.  So it's not like I'm out wearing my minks, eating veal and shooting deer with AK47s to mount on my walls. 

But Mother Nature needs to get her lil darlings the hell outta my house. 

It all started thursday, when we kept seeing those big black carpenter ants, they were coming out from under the couch.  I killed, scrubbed, vacuumed (Dyson-ed, aaaah yeah baby).  Friday night, they were still parading out from somewhere in the family room.  Tracked those militants to the hot water pipes that come up from the basement for the radiator system (centenarian houses aren't always worth it).  Called around to people who 'know' stuff....mom, neighbor, friends, neighbors' friends' moms.  Got answers like this "Put salt/red pepper/black pepper/boric acid at the doorways or where they are coming from."  (Boric Acid?  Seriously?  i want to get rid of some ants, not poison the water system)

So I spiced the house.  (Not the boric acid, who's got that laying around?)  Saturday afternoon, Eve and I are ready to make us some glorious PB&Js.  Clear the usual detritus from the countertop to make room.....and ants go SCATTERING.  OH IT IS ON NOW!!  You're in my KITCHEN??? Since I know ants externally fertilize their eggs, I am surprised at the brass cajones these lil gangsters have.  Eve(she's 4) points them out, and I am slamming them to kingdom come with my paper towel covered fists.  Clutter FLIES off the countertop.  Eve even thinks she hears teeny ant screams...and she is right.  (She also hears me scream "where is your father? he is NEVER here to help me!"  And after i hear her repeat that 3 times, I realize I gotta deprogram that nonsense and fast. Damn me and my extemporaneous speech!)  But the ants are recognizing the error of their ways.

I scrubbed and scrubbed and smashed more ants to smithereens.  It's no joke to be in my kitchen DAWGS.  I re-call the previous experts.  What now?  10 minutes later....a call comes back.  The dollar store carries the answer.  The dollar store, mecca of all things grand.  When aforementioned hubby gets home from his GOLF GAME, I trek it outta there to splurge big time on some ant spray.  Spices be damned.  Hazardous to pets and humans?  Zippity doo dah.  The ants are WAY more hazardous in my humble opinion.  And we were going outta town on Sunday.....I'd douse the house and get outta dodge, be back to a dead swarm of ants, hope the dogs were no worse for the wear.

And that is exactly what i did.  My husband thinks I'm possessed....of course he was GOLFING when the Ant Army Encampment on my counter underwent the 'shock & awe' campaign.  I even sprayed off the front porch, the back patio.  And returned home sunday night, nary an ant in sight.  aaaah.  peace in the house again.

Till i'm washing dishes yesterday morning.  I kid you not---ants were coming up the drain, coming up from the edges of the sink, under the countertops.  I was drowning them and spraying them with the attachment hose.  I was screaming and yelling....luckily Eve had spent the night at her grandparent's, Nick was engrossed in his trains, and Al, where was he??? OH YES GOLFING!!!!!!!!  AGAIN!!

I took Nick, strapped him in the car seat, and sprayed down the entire ktichen.  Every surface.  Every inch,  all the cupboards, counters, baseboards.  I left there with an ant killer spray high and went to my mother's.  For the day.  peace on earth.

Last night, Al and I were enjoying an adult lemonade beverage on the patio.  It was a pleasant cool evening.  The smell of waning barbecues and light ant spray were in the air.  I informed him of my ant battle, and he was laughing.  Golfers do that, they laugh.  Then we went in to get ready for bed.  I'm in the kitchen, he straight to the couch.  I'm wiping down the counters, and he yells "BAT!! WE HAVE A BAT!! GO get the tennis racket!"

This chica does NOT do flying mammals.  I made like a bread truck and hauled buns, got the racket and stood on the back deck waiting for him to take care of this.  And he did, pretty quickly.  Him killing that bat made up for the golf missing the Great Ant War.He is my true BatMan....he even buried it in the back yard.  Can't wait for our feral cat to dig that up.  ugh. 

My last thought before I went to sleep was, I wonder if bats eat ants. I'd have kept the lil bugger if he did.....