We have ants. They are all over the place. We tried many different things. We finally resorted to an exterminator. They came out 3 weeks ago, sprayed and said that things should be better in 2 weeks. They were not. I am now waiting for them to come out again sometime this afternoon (of course they can not tell me exactly when, so my kids are at the beach with a friend and I am sitting here waiting for the bug guys to come dump poison in my house…again…in hopes that it works this time).
So killing ants has become almost second nature lately. See an ant on the sink, smush it. See an ant climb up the cutting board, brush it on the counter and then smash it. See an ant in a cup with lemonade, dump the lemonade and be sure to wash the ant down the drain. We have killed many ants in many different ways.
Then this morning. Kyle found an ant in the microwave. He said that he wanted to microwave it. I told him that he could not do that because it was too cruel. He looked at me with totally incredulity and said “But you are just going to kill it…”. So I preceded to explain how killing an ant in a split nanosecond with no warning was totally different then microwaving the poor thing over the course of several seconds. How a quick unexpected death was much more humane then the (relative) slowness of realizing that your molecules are being fried.
Kyle just looked at me as if to remind me that it was an ant that we were talking about and I am sure that he is filing this conversation under “just one more way that Mom has proved that she is nuts” category.
I went over and smashed the ant. And then began to wonder just how long it takes an ant to drown when it gets washed down the drain….