Ants in our Pants

Maybe I did a super cleaning job and then had a whole bunch of people over for dinner and then the cleaning kind of got pushed to the back of the to-do list. Maybe I forgot to sweep the floor for a coupla weeks. And maybe I have always been intrigued by ants and it was no big deal when the first few filed into our kitchen. But 20 ants is too many ants.

When I was little I LOVED LOVED LOVED bugs. I had a bug book and a bug container that had breathing holes manufactured in the top. And since there was always a bug already in there, I was forever begging my mom to cut holes into peanut butter jar lids. I will never forget the smell of day-old caterpillar and wilted grass and it still brings back good memories, even if the smell send chills down my spine.

My grandma and grandpa would dig up an anthill every summer and put some of the ants with some dirt into a canning jar for me to watch. Those ants would go to work right away making canals and tunnels and I loved watching them dig away, piece by piece. I've always been intrigued, too, how if you disturb an ant hill it's always the hurt ants and the babies that are rescued first. I could watch an ant forever move an egg to a safer location. It looks so hard, but they do it. And they do it quickly. If only people could have the same work ethic.

My interest in ants and love for bugs hasn't diminished much in the past 23 years. I mean, I don't go around putting them in jars anymore, but I appreciate them for their tininess. I wasn't really grossed out when a few ants appeared on our kitchen floor. Poor things were looking for some food for the winter and there was plenty to be had on our dirty floor. Well, that sort of changed when there were tons of them scampering along the wall, branching out to under the table. They weren't so cute, but I thought that if I just swept real good they would tire of their search and be gone. Which was kind of true. For a few days until we left some food on the table after dinner and the next morning it was teaming with ants. There are personal boundaries in the kitchen. And ants do not belong on the table. Nope. No way.

I swept, wiped and mopped that kitchen to spotlessness and then found my way to the store for some ant bait. Nothing was going to get in the way of the killer. I set out the traps and we left for the weekend to Rexburg. No one was going to be dropping crumbs on the ground for a good 36 hours and I was ready and waiting. When we got home there were a few ants who were slowly making their way around, but no real threat. They looked a little sick if I do say so myself. After that, no more ants. The traps had promised to kill a whole colony, but even if it had just made the scouts super sick I would have been happy. It kind of grosses me out more to think of a whole colony of ants, dead somewhere under the ground. But we've got no more ants in our pants and I am keeping our kitchen floor clean so that our next friendly visitors are not mice.