Tomorrow, I have a new task. The lines are drawn, but I’m losing. I saw the enemy breach two main lines of defence.
They were in the top cupboards, the ones sealed with rubber.
And in the main living area, right next to the bedroom. One step takes them into the bedroom.
And I am not going to live with ants in my bed!
Tomorrow, I won’t be writing. I will be killing the enemy, or at least putting baits in the house — where the dog can’t reach them.
Normally, I don’t kill ants. Why? We have a few trees near the house that are always infested with termites, and having a few ants around keeps them under control.
They do. Ants steal the eggs (or so I tell myself — not sure if someone else told me that).
This time, inside the boundary of ‘them’ and ‘us’, the breach is intolerable.
As a matter of habit, I put all food inside sealed containers, tight-screwed lids, and nothing is left out except tea and coffee grounds. It didn’t stop them. They’re in the cupboards, in the microwave, in the fridge! In the fridge!
The war commences tomorrow.
Unless I get carted back to the colony overnight …
I hope to see you again soon …