Ants Are Marching

Well, they're more than a month late, but they're back. Every spring, we're pestered by ants. And it's the weirdest infestation ever. For one thing, regardless of what we - and our pest guy - do, it lasts a few weeks. As far as I can tell, this period can't be significantly increased or decreased by treatment or lack thereof. Still, every year I'm willing to try something new. And either nothing's worked so far, or I haven't found their real access point yet. I had such high hopes for last year's chalk line. This year: spray baby oil. And, if step 2 is necessary: corn meal.

They're tiny little black ants, about the size of the millimeter line on a plastic school ruler. I usually think they're minute pieces of lint until they start scurrying frantically across our white bathroom floor or bathtub.

And that's the other really weird thing: location. These ants are only ever found a few at a time in the master bathroom. I've never, ever seen one in the kitchen, which shares a wall with the master bath. The fruit bowl is completely safe. Nor do I see the ants in the family room, living room, or master bedroom, despite the fact that each of those places seems a likelier hangout for ants. The master bedroom is obviously close to the master bath, and has a larger window on the same wall. The family room has a screen door opening out onto the patio. The front/living room has large windows kissed by long tendrils of ivy, a known insect and arachnid hang-out.

I don't know why this limited influx of teeny tiny ants bothers me so much, but it really does. As good ant karma, I've steadfastly refused to kill the small spider living on the inside of my front door, between the thin curtain and the glass. It won't do any practical good with the ants, but maybe it will broadcast the message to the elements of nature encroaching on my house: you stay in your space, I'll stay in mine.

Because I really don't like to encounter living creatures while I'm naked and vulnerable. For the most part.