Damn the black ants. An endless stream seem to be marching into our house. All over the kitchen bench - no matter how many times I wipe it. In the sugar bowl, I get them out, only for Matt to discover an hour later that they're back, and this time they've brought friends.
Tiny drops plenty of meals for these small creatures. But I sweep them up. She's intent on feeding them methinks. If I happen to miss a piece of toast, or a well squashed piece of peach - well they jump right on it. There'll be a trail leading in and out the door.
Don't get me wrong. I always loved ants. I had an art farm when I was a kid. I was endlessly fascinated by their tunnels, they're intelligent little things. Yet, they don't seem to be terribly intuitive. We don't want them in the house. Sneaking under the benchtop. Tag-teaming with the next round of ants as they carry out their specks of sugar.
Who do they think they are? Uninvited guests are always the pits. Spiders are particularly one of my least favourite, and lately I seem to attract grasshoppers too. Eeeeek!
But it's these ants.
Have you got the perfect chemical-free way to rid PottyMouthMama HQ of these pesky punters?
I've tried crushed mint leaves at the door. No cigar.
PS - You know you're having a slow Saturday night (AGAIN - what happened to my social life?!) when a) you're posting about ants; and b) Matt looks over and discovers you're scouring Google Images for a suitable ant picture. There's a song for this.
image via
