“Ants Will Take Over the World,” Revisited

I’ve got ants. They’re not in my pants yet, but that may be just a matter of time. They are everywhere else, although they prefer water: the kitchen sink, the bathroom sink, the toilet. I’m keeping an eye on that last one, but right now the kitchen is the worst. They come through unsealed areas in the countertop and sink. They send out scouts, follow up with patrols, and then let loose the infantry as if they were legions under the command of Russell Crowe as General Maximus.

I have taken to annihilating the invaders with a homemade weapon of mass destruction (HWMD) that contains bleach, white wine vinegar, dishwasher detergent, Windex, and whatever I happen to be in the mood for at the time. It’s quite effective. One spray stops waves of the little black pests.

I seem to remember a caution in high school chemistry about mixing bleach with ammonia–something about the release of toxic gas. If there’s a chemist in the room, add a comment below before I poison myself. I am, however, open to experimentation. You know, for science.

These ants aren’t big. They aren’t fire ants, killer ants, or mutant ants. They’re just specs, really. From a distance, you might mistake them for spilled coffee grounds. Except these grounds cover a lot of ground. They’re tiny but quick to react to any movement. I think they pick up vibrations on the countertop or sink surface and then scramble as quickly as possible to avoid getting sprayed. That tells me they value Formicidae life.

I used to think they were smart, because they appear to know when I am about to spray, but here’s the thing: They keep coming back. That’s ants for you. So, how smart are they, really? Don’t they see what’s going on? Are there no survivors who drag themselves back to camp with the devastating news? I imagine the queen ant weeping for her lost legions. Yet, they still send waves of foot soldiers in an attempt to exact Maximus-like revenge: “…I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next!”

Maybe I brought this on myself. After all, I woke up at four this morning and decided to rearrange boxes in the basement and reposition picture frames on my bedroom wall, just to feed my need to be picture perfect. In doing so, I deliberately crushed a beetle underfoot that sat unsuspecting on the patio, literally putting out feelers into the chilly morning air. Apparently, it didn’t feel my presence until it was too late. So, are the Insecta creatures exacting revenge for my actus formicicidae? Will I wake up tomorrow morning as an ant (cf. Synchronicity)?

Or is God trying to tell me something, wake me from my slumber, shake me by the collar, point me in a direction and kick me in the seat of my antsy pants? Whenever God does that, it’s to make us stop and take notice. Sometimes, we are so resistant that we require major fine-tuning–nothing we can’t handle, but enough to get us to change lanes.

I won’t pretend to know what the presence of ants in my house means, if it means anything at all. It’s a clean house, a tidy house, a recently landscaped house (see Stoned). So, I don’t see any reason for them to be here. I bet they don’t even know why they’re here. Following orders from the queen? There are no leftovers in the sink, no pizza boxes lying about, no crumbs on the floor. That’s what you get when you live alone. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s why I live alone. Then again, maybe the answer hasn’t got anything to do with reason.

For now, though, I have my new friends, the Formicidae. I suppose I will have to tolerate them, at least for the time being, but don’t ask me to trust them. They’re out to take over my kitchen, my house, the world. Will they get into my pants? Not if I can help it. I shake them out thoroughly every morning.

Image credits: Resource Database, Maksim Shutov, Thomas Kinto, Maria Dolores Vazquez. See “Ants Will Take Over the World” from August 30, 2020. Want more? Click on Amazon, top right, for other publications or go to Robert Brancatelli. Visit other blog readers under “Who You Are.” Leave a comment by clicking on the Comment tab above. Happy Birthday to Edgar Eugene Kendall, my oldest grandson.