I thought the ant invasion had died down in my bathroom, as the second round of liquid ant bait was dispensed. I noticed they had slowed to a trickle. And when I put on my glasses, I witnessed hundreds of tiny dead ant carcasses all over the bathroom floor.
Unfortunately, I don’t wear my glasses nearly often enough. I find that ignorance is bliss. Out of sight. Out of mind. That’s how I roll. But I do, however, wear my orthopedic shoes in the house.
Fiddledaddy wears neither his glasses or his shoes often enough. Last night I witnessed him traipsing through the cemetery of unearthed ants on the bathroom floor IN HIS BARE FEET. On his way to bed.
Seriously? THERE ARE DEAD ANTS BETWEEN YOUR TOES AND YOU’RE GOING TO CLIMB INTO MY BED?
The story has a semi-happy ending in that Jensen was wrangled into vacuuming up all the carcasses off the floor. He was gleeful. And his father told him that he would earn an extra 10 points if he sucked up a live one.
I’ve been coveting a new vacuum anyway.
However, word of the massacre has gotten out and several other tribes of ants have come to avenge their relatives.
Really. It’s like a horror movie. I may have to move…
Of course the house across the street is still for sale…