Ants

Every summer, there's a couple of weeks when ants march through our house. But, so what? I could fill the house with poisons or corn meal which they (supposedly) can't digest and it makes them explode or something (but let the record show I have my doubts - we were told slices of lemon would deter even the heartiest scout ants from bothering us. What did we end up with? Lemon slices covered with ants. It's like the old red-pepper-on-peanuts-deters-squirrels-from-eating-nuts-meant-for-the-birds lie. We had squirrels lining up to sample our uber-savory red-peppery snack nuts. But I digress.) But they're just bloody ants. Who gives one?

Last summer, I got a little crazy when someone left a half-eaten french fry container on the couch overnight and in the morning, the couch was coated with ants. That was unpleasant, but... you know. It's just ants. They are nature's irritants. They don't bite (hard enough that you would notice.) Whatever. And when you disturb them, they scatter faster than a group of nine-year-olds they just broke a car windshield.

But this morning, I woke up, and they were all over the kitchen. Yes, someone left the top of the honey pot, which encouraged them to start sniffing around. But then we found them in the butter dish. And all over everywhere. Bastards!

I wonder if aardvark's make a lot of mess, or could be trained to use a cat litter box, because that's the best way I can think of to keep the little shitheads out of my house. Plus it would be cool to have an aardvark.

"Hey, what the heck is that?"
"(swelling with pride) An aardvark. His name is Varky."
"You rock."
"Yes, yes I do."