This Way and That Way

Happy Birthday Rebecca Ramsey, and thanks for throwing a blog party! I had something else planned to post today, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I wonder why I do that?

I decided my Wonder of The World would be: How can something that appears to be SO disorganized be so HIGHLY efficient? No, it’s not me. I’m talking about these guys:

Guess what season it is? No, not Fall. Not School. Not Football.

It’s ANT Season! I hate ants.

So, guess what I found in my pantry this morning? Not a football.

It begins one day with a moving dot on the counter. I think, destroy it or he’ll tell his friends.

But it’s just the one, I argue with myself and leave it alone.

He tells his friends. There’s a smattering of them scouting around the sink. I wipe them up.

The kids protest. "But they’re so cute!"

Ants are not cute.

I hold them at bay for weeks, but they ooze inside in greater numbers. I might be an impeccable housekeeper. I’m not, but it wouldn’t matter if I were. They find the speck of grease that leapt out of the skillet, the fudgesicle drips, the dead spider under the couch. They march right in the door to get it.

Our longest line spanned from the front door up around the ceiling and down along baseboards to reach a muffin crumb under the breakfast nook. The thickest line was four inches wide. It skirted the door and infiltrated the pantry, laying waste to a long lost bag of Xtra Cheddar Goldfish.

I marvel at those organized yet frenzied units. From where I stand, the ants on the floor look like a busy interstate of bumper cars. Tiny, drunken bumper car drivers on a mission.

In children’s books, ants are cute. Merry, lip-smacking, bib-wearing, marching ants. They’re so round and smiling. Did I mention that ants are NOT cute?

The little devils do love a party, though, and so do I. So I’m marching back to Becky’s for some cake.