June marks the annual ant invasion here at Casa Del Gato.
One by one, the carpenter ants find their way from the woods into our houses. I don’t mind seeing and smashing them on the floor, but when I find one climbing my arm I mind a lot.
Carpenter ants always bring back memories. In our sunny orange 70s kitchen in Douglas, Michigan, I remember John pouring a bowl of ants instead of pre-sweetened cereal. I remember Bob practicing his best rubber band shooting skills, killing the ants one by one at the sink. And I remember Mom suddenly jumping up from the table and then returning to tell us she had just bitten an ant instead of a crumb, and it (the ant) bit back.
The only redeeming feature of carpenter ants is that they are easy to see for the kill. The crunch of their exo-skeleton under my shoe is a little gross, though.
It’s time to call the exterminator.
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