Ants in yer pants...

Well, now I know why the garage door attacked my car. It’s so simple, really. I killed an ant colony, and now the universe is giving me a dose of karma cough syrup. I feel horrible about the whole thing. Do I regret killing the ants? Maybe not. But what if I hadn’t? Would I still have a car door?

Here’s how it happened.

Last week we noticed an abundance of teeny-tiny critters crawling around the bathroom floor. Upon further investigation, it became painfully obvious that we had an ant problem. They were wiggling their way out of a hole between the bathroom tub and the wall, and although they proved to be extremely entertaining whilst sitting on the john, I couldn’t help but be grossed out. I mean, our bed is only 15 feet away; how many ants have we shared a bed with in the last week? Or worse, what if they crawled into my ears, mouth, or nose? If they had built themselves a nice big anthill in the backyard, I would happily leave them alone. But my bathroom?

So, I went to Ace hardware and bought an ant trap. I placed it at the entrance of their bathroom palace, and waited.

And waited. (Yes, I actually sat down and waited to see what would happen - am I sadistic?).

Finally, a little ant came crawling out. He stopped short and stared at, what I imagine would seem like a mammoth cornucopia. I was careful not to move or make a peep. Was this a standoff? He suddenly turned around and scurried back into the ant hole. I figured the ant trap had failed.

But no! Seconds later, 10 little scout ants exited the hole and made their way into the ant trap. It was amazing! Within minutes, the entire ant trap was swarming with ants, food on their backs, taking it back for the rest of the colony to feast. I have to admit, I felt like an ant bully. It was pretty evil what I was doing. Tricking those poor buggers into some good eats.

As of the yesterday there has been no sign of the bathroom-ants. I killed them. But not without a price; they took with them my car door, and karma came around and kicked me in the ass, but there was a lesson in all of this: Next time we have a pest problem, leave it to Mr.Brady to take care of.