The war

No, not the Iraq war. Nope, not the Afghanistan war. No, not even the war against narcotrafficking. I speak of a very different, a very personal war, I am fighting all day, every day.

Ants.

I have ants in my kitchen. I hate them. I want them dead. I want them gone.

If you have been one, have known one, or have heard about nesting mothers, you will understand that there are NO crumbs in my kitchen. There is no dish left unwashed. There is nothing laying around tempting the little critters to come out of the crevices and attack. There is nothing.

Why, ants, why!?

I want my house to be perfect for the baby's arrival and you are ruining EVERYTHING! I've googled how to get rid of you. I kill all your little friends. Go away!

I will give you one more chance. This is not a threat, it's a promise. Go away, find a new home or I will kill every last one of you with however many products I need to in order to make my point. Bring this information to your queen. This is not a negotiation: Either leave by yourselves or be forced out. You are not welcome.

**UPDATE**The ants have now invaded my dreams as well. Last night I dreamed that every time I looked, they had multiplied. Apparently, according to me and my dream, every ant has 10 ant babies everyday. Imagine the multitude. The bad news was I found the nest in the corner of one of the legs of the kitchen table. Did you know an ant nest looks surprisingly like a Chinese paper lantern? I didn't. The good news is, I went crazy with the broom, pinata style on that paper lantern ant nest. Then, I got my spray. Needless to say, there were no more ants. I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. I actually had to get out of bed and check to make sure it didn't actually happen. More good news, I've only seen one ant this morning. It's dead, now. That's progress in my book.