by
Ginger Hanson
A commando squad of ants tried to kidnap me early Wednesday morning. It was another round in the ongoing Ginger versus the Ants war. Their goal is to move into my house while my goal is to keep them out. Crawling into my bed and trying to remove me physically was their most invasive attack yet.
Their late night raid began with an evening diversionary skirmish–a small company of ants pretended to be interested in the linen cabinet. The ant in charge of the commando team sacrificed the skirmish ants for the bigger goal: me.
After we eradicated the linen cabinet ants, we went to bed. While my husband and I slept peacefully, the brigade of commando ants began the real attack. Sneaking along the floor board and up the leg of the bed, they traveled over the bed springs and mattress to regroup underneath my pillows.
While the main force milled around under my pillows, no doubt awaiting heavy artillery, an over zealous recon team surveyed the battle field. My husband says they were measuring me to see how many ants it would take to move me. Whatever their mission, one of them got trigger happy and bit my leg. If it weren’t for that ant, their kidnap plan would have probably succeeded, but the bite woke me up.
As I lay in the bed wondering why I was awake, nature called. Rolling out of bed, I stumbled to the bathroom. A few minutes later, I crawled back into bed. The clock glowed 3 a.m. Now I was wide awake.
The next ant crawled across my foot. I swatted at it, figuring my bathroom stroll had given a survivor from the linen cabinet fiasco an opportunity to hitch a ride on my foot. I thought I had brought the little rascal into the bed with me.
Wrong.
I felt one on my forehead. Mmmmmmmm. I brushed it off. Then there was an ant on my arm. Determined to go back to sleep, I ignored the initial attack, grabbed my pillows and snuggled down. As soon as I slid my arms under the pillow, I knew I was in big trouble. The little tickley feeling of one ant multiplied. It felt as if had put my arms into an ant hill!
My natural reaction was to scream hysterically, but my husband slept in peaceful bliss beside me. I sure didn’t want to issue a false alarm and would ruin his beauty sleep. I needed to make sure I wasn’t imagining all those little bodies scampering along my fingers and arms.
It’s pretty dark in our bedroom at three in the morning, but I couldn’t turn on a lamp. So I leaned over, opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out my trusty little flashlight. On my knees in the middle of the bed, I ripped up my pillows, shone the light on the bed, and exposed the ants.
I wasn’t dreaming–they were crawling all over the place. Of course, finding and disposing of tiny ants on a forest green sheet in the middle of the night with a small flashlight can be a challenge. I created as much havoc in their lines as I could, killing, maiming, and brushing them off the bed as quietly as possible. When it appeared they were all gone, I tried to go back to sleep since the alarm wasn’t set to ring for another hour.
By 5 a.m. I had taken all I could of trying to sleep with a bed full of real and imaginary ants. I gave up and got up. I didn’t see any reason to disturb my husband, he seemed to be getting along fine with the little fiends. I knew they were after me, not him. I’m the one that keeps spraying all their comrades with bug spray. I was the kidnap target. I knew exactly what their little minds were thinking: get rid of Ginger and they could move into the house.
Although this isn’t my first encounter with ants who want to move into my house, this year they have been extremely pesky. According to a recent blurb on CNN’s Headline news, the drought is making some insects even more of a house pest than they usually are. Thirst is driving bugs into houses in record numbers. The ants in my house heard that information along with me since they were crawling around in the living room while I watched television. They laughed, thinking how behind the power curve CNN was–they had been pestering me for weeks and CNN had just learned about the problem.
CNN was only confirming the dire prediction of my pest control service. In their expert opinion, ants will continue to be a problem for certain home owners until the drought breaks. Since the ants tended to end up around the sinks in the bathroom, laundry room, or kitchen, I could see they were more interested in water this year than food. What I never suspected was that my steam iron would prove to be a major attraction.
Now, I ask you, other than an ant, who would think an iron was a good place to set up housekeeping? I can see it now. Some scout ant fell into the tiny fill spout of the iron, found the water container and thought–my what a great source of water for the family. Never mind the fact that the iron is on the dresser in a second floor room. No, this industrious little guy scurries all the way back outside to get his buddies. Within twenty-four hours, hundreds of ants are raiding the water container inside my iron for a drink.
When I picked up the iron the next day, ants streamed out the fill spout. My diabolical side made me set the iron’s control on “cotton” and wait. Surprisingly, steam doesn’t fry ants as quickly as one would think. I ended up rinsing the iron out half a dozen times. It seemed no matter how much I rinsed, there were still little bodies swimming out the spout.
This incident drove home to me the fact that these little guys are thirsty. What I can’t figure out is why they will ransack my house for half a cup of water when they live right across the street from a lake. It makes me want to post teeny tiny signs throughout my house. “This way to lake.” Even if I went to all that trouble, I doubt it would help. With my luck, ants probably can’t read.
Since the ants prefer my house, I have only one choice. Until the drought breaks, I must maintain my vigilance, sleep with a can of bug spray next to the bed and hope their next kidnap attempt fails as dismally as the first.
The End
