May. 8th, 2008

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The ants go marching one by one, hurrah, hurrah...

And two by two and three by three and in teeming swarms. Kitchen counters, the rim of the bathtub, and now on my living room couch. Nowhere is safe.

Of course you realize, this means war.

The ants aren’t as out and out disgusting as grain moths: no webbing in my food or little yellow worms crawling about. But they’re so insistent, and so many.

One never truly hates an insect until one’s house is infested with them.

Is this how an invading army grows to feel about the hidden enemy?

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Oh look, it's Dietrich

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