The past couple of weeks (okay, maybe the past month), we’ve been dealing with ants. Specifically, carpenter ants. Before you picture hundreds of ants marching through the kitchen because of crumbs or other food left out, stop. We were seeing 2 or so ants (4 on a bad day) in the small-en suite powder room. Looking them up online, we found out they were definitely carpenter ants so I called up Orkin to resolve the issue quickly.
Of course, I wanted to get a sample for the Orkin man so we promptly stopped seeing any. I managed to find one and, because I couldn’t stand watching him scurry around his little plastic prison, put him in the freezer to just go to sleep. In my messed up insect killing world, squishing’s okay. A slow, frantic death is not. (As an aside, when I still lived with my parents, if a spider I killed fell in the bathtub or something else happened and I couldn’t kill it quickly, I would sometimes let it live…and I hate spiders.)
The guy came, talked to the ants and sprayed and we spent the night at my parents’ house since the “vacate the house for 6 hours or 24 hours with a child under one” didn’t sit well with me. Something tells me that you don’t suddenly change on your first birthday so we decided to be safe. If we saw more after 10 days, we were supposed to call again. You see where this is going. They’re coming back tomorrow. Another night out of the house. Fortunately, my parents have a playpen and a high chair so it’s pretty easy to just head over there.
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