This time last year, I was seeing ants in my kitchen. I eventually discovered that they had raided my sugar bag, so I threw it out, and from that point on, I’ve kept my sugar in the freezer – and thus, an ant-free kitchen.
But a few weeks ago, I saw an ant.
And you know what they say: where there’s one ant, there are lots of more ants. (I don’t know if that’s what they actually say.)
For weeks, I have seen ants in my kitchen – but I was never able to figure out their point of genesis. I cleaned the kitchen cabinets, Cloroxed the counters, sealed every food item, and cleared every crumb after every meal.
Still, the ants came marching one by one.
The other night, I was setting my coffee for the next morning. I poured the water into the machine, and as I did, I caught sight of an ant camouflaged on the side of the black coffee maker.
I killed it.
And then, I saw another ant come crawling out of the machine.
So I killed it, too.
And all of a sudden, there was a flood, a deluge, a gushing of ants coming out of my coffee maker.
My coffee maker.
The hotbed was IN MY COFFEE MAKER.
Shockingly, I didn’t scream, but I made a pathetic, drawn out, traumatized noise of some sort – somewhere between a moan and a cry and a “Die, scum” sob. I aimed the bottle of Clorox at the teeming swarm, and just started spraying – spraying like a stream of Charlie Sheen nonsense. Finally, I slammed the lid shut, took the entire coffee machine, dumped it in a Hefty bag, and marched it to the dumpster.
You do realize what this means, right?
For weeks, I have been drinking coffee that has been STRAINED THROUGH ANTS.
I will never, ever recover from this.