It is cold in southern Indiana.
And the local ants, which I have believed all my life to be cold-blooded, have come inside to get warm and hunt for snacks.
Last fall they came inside and were summarily dispatched by my hunter husband. They have returned. Apparently last year a few did not eat the deadly poison he put out for them to carry back to their nest even though every friend ant was raving about how good it tasted. A few survived to live another season...and procreate...and become cold in the fall.
So again the deadly traps have been put out this time inconspicuously on the counter in order for Kat Karson not to get into them.
It is very difficult to watch ants swarm over your counter tops and stand back and allow them to do just that, knowing that if you dispatch them yourself they will not be carrying the poison back to the nest. Yet it does give some satisfaction to smash several dozen of them to their death with a wet paper towel.
That's what I think about it....and I think that no one reading this will come to dinner for a long time.
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