And then, last week…
It started with a few of them, sneaking into the kitchen via a tiny gap in a window frame. I killed half a dozen, cleaned the area, sprayed cleaner into the gap, and hoped for the best. I used the last of the can of expanding foam in my last battle with these foul creatures. My wife, however, remembered that we had a tube of caulk lying around, and duly sealed the gap.
All was quiet on Thursday evening.
Again, all quiet that night.
The ones out in the open went first, flushed screaming down the drain by hot water. One mass of ants had found their way into a metal container that held one piece of toffee, so that got dumped in the sink and became a scalding hot deathtrap for the fiends. The other group was heading for the toaster oven. Sure, it had crumbs in the bottom. So the crumb tray got washed, and then I plugged the thing in and turned it on, just to be sure. And after a few seconds, a few ants came rushing out, and I dealt with them most harshly. Then this ant, significantly larger than any of the others, comes trundling out. Oh yes, an ant queen was trying to establish a new nest inside my toaster oven.
Out came the spray bottle of cleaner (which, by the way, is a diluted version of this insanely powerful concentrated orange-based cleaner; it's a great cleaner, and it kills ants almost instantly, which is huge bonus in my book). The counters were cleaned; the window gap was flooded with orange ant death. And then I discovered that another group was setting up camp in my dishwasher, which was a less-than-ideal location. For them, I mean. It was great for me, because I was able to send unto them a high temperature flood with the push of a single button. I can't imagine there were any survivors, so I don't think and ant high command will be able to update their intelligence about that particular maneuver.
Then it was time to take the battle outside. I sprayed cleaner all around the window, all around the sill, into every gap I could find, and then back down along the ant trail until I lost them in the neighbor's shrubbery. The ants died almost instantly, and a bunch of spiders went into convulsions. Well, if you bastards were doing your job, this wouldn't have happened.
A few were found upstairs, on the sill of the guest room window. The AC drainage pipe is (inexplicably) located immediately above this window, so these must have been patrolling for water. But once these scouts were dealt with, no further incursions were found.
But I know they're out there, waiting. They're patient, and they're clever. Oh yes, trying to establish a base inside the house proves that much. But I have righteous anger on my side, and a streak of fierce, carefully suppressed insanity, which each invasion pushes ever so slightly closer to the surface. I hope that one day I won't be found planting dynamite under my neighbor's bushes, but that's really up to the ants, isn't it?