These ants have been driving me fucking batshit. We knew when we moved into the apartment two years ago that there had been an ant problem. The tell-tale sign was that there were little plastic flower-shaped Raid Ant Bait traps underneath the kitchen sink. It's gotten to the point that I see ants in my kitchen every day. If I don't take an hour or so out of my day to murder a long line of marching ants and clean up whatever they're after, it's a good day. They've been wearing on me for the last couple of months, though.
Over time, it felt almost as if the ants were trying to personally hurt me. At least once a week, while I'm watching TV or something, an ant crawls over my glasses. My GLASSES. Some mornings, I would wake up and find them nomming on a spoon that had sugar on it from my cup of coffee. I would sigh, wipe them up, and continue about my day. Ants like sugar. This is to be expected. But then, another day, I brewed a cup of coffee and found a dead ant floating in it. They DEFILED my sacred, precious Hello Kitty coffee maker. Why? Why would they be in my coffee maker? There's nothing in there that tastes good on its own! I found a few of them inside my rice cooker, too -- and it was empty! Why would they possibly want to get into an empty rice cooker? Because they hate Asians. These are racist ants, my friends.
Another personal jab to me happened during the special time during a girl's life when she bleeds out her vagina for a week. Back in my old apartment, I learned not to trust the toilet when flushing tampons, so I'd wrap them and toss them in the trash. Somehow, the ants had eaten a hole through the caulk in the bathtub and later that night, I came home to a ravenous swarm of ants EATING MY USED TAMPON.
I can't keep living like this. I just can't. These ants are RUINING MY LIFE.
We've tried the very same Raid Ant Bait Traps. We've tried being extremely meticulous about not leaving anything the ants might find appetizing. To keep from harming our kittens, we made special "natural" ant bait traps out of honey, Splenda, and 20 Mule Team Borax.
Those looked like they were working. We slipped them underneath the kitchen counter and behind heavy bags of cat litter. Within a couple days, there were long, thick lines of ants swarming over the poisoned honey traps underneath my kitchen sink. Zero ants in plain sight.
For a few weeks, the ants and I had a truce. I'd re-stock the ant trap with various poisoned goodies -- sugar-water, mayonnaise, watered-down cat food slurry -- and they'd stay off of my counters. It was kind of fascinating to see how many of them would eat themselves to death every day. Some would just drown in the poison, unable to swim back to safety.
But last night, after the Christmas festivities were over and I was trying to relax, I found two lines of ants marching over my counters. They had broken the truce. And on the night of Christmas Day, I had finally had it. I locked the cats out of the kitchen, opened the window, turned on the fans, and blasted some Coheed and Cambria on my iPod. I took the poisoned goodies and I dumped them out in the sink, then I ran the garbage disposal. And then, the big guns: I used ant spray on those little motherfuckers and sprayed the shit out of the crack between the wall and the plumbing they were coming from. Then I used duct tape to seal them off.
I wiped up their soggy ant corpses and then I cleaned the rest of the kitchen to make sure there was nothing else they would want to eat. I know deep down that this was just another battle, and the war is far from over. They'll be back. I've got a sugar bowl on the kitchen table I use for my coffee -- I'm sure that's next. But, this Christmas, the ants were not going to get the best of me.
Merry Fucking Christmas, you disgusting little fuckers.
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