They're back. Oh, yes. Those beauties, those devils, those scrounge of my very existence...the sugar ant.
Target of choice? A 5 gallon, pasty white bucket full of cloth diapers. Poo-riddled diapers. Who'd have thunk it? Here I am scrubbing dishes and mopping floors, feeling ahead of the game. But no....little buggers. Thought our bucket o' diapers need only fear flies and the occasional dung beetle.
And for the record...sugar ants do NOT march one by one. (apparently this makes them much easier to smite. Giant masses of little black bodies? A more significant challenge for the human enemy. )
Where went my spray? Where, that darling arsenal of death mechanisms?...yeah, well as to that--we seem to be temporarily out of stock. Fortunately, a four year old boy makes a fabulous stand in death machine! Squashing left, right and center with nary a grimace. More mess, more fuss; but at this point, with small armies approaching and spring lurking in the not-too-distant-distance...well, I'll take what I can get. As a bonus, it provides a great time to talk about mercy (as in, "make sure the ant is ALL the way squashed honey, don't leave him to suffer." that counts, yes?)
Happy terminating: Gen
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