After a busy day of grading student papers, I trudged to the kitchen, weary and worn, to fix supper. Upon opening the cabinet above the stove, a host of creepy, crawly LARGE black ants scurried hither and yon--some leaping madly onto the counter, others wiggling to break free from the honey jar.
Enter crazed woman on a mission . . .
With hands balled into fists, I chased the critters all over the kitchen, smashing them and pulverizing them into itty, bitty black specks which littered my floor like carnage at Gettysburg. I felt like Ernie on Mouse Hunt who's fateful falling out with a gigantic roach left him more determined than ever to never let another vermin get him down.
By the time Chuck walked up the steps to supper, I was giggling hysterically. I could envision an enormous ant pinned against the wall, my fists clobbering his face like a punching bag.
Call it hunger, heat, tiredness, or just an extra helping of testosterone . . .
But somehow, it felt mighty nice to punch the lights out of those suckers! No self-respecting ant dare stick an antenna in my kitchen, or anywhere else in my house, for that matter.
That was yesterday. Anyone who drops by for a visit will be happy to know I'm feeling much calmer today with no ants on the horizon.
By the way, TIP FOR ELIMINATING ANTS if you don't want to use your fists:
Sprinkle grits around the threshold of doors. Place a small bowl of water nearby. The ants eat the grits, drink some water, and you got--BLOW UP!
Hey, it works.
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