They’re just trying to make a living

Yesterday morning, when I returned from my beach walk, I sat down to enjoy a second cup of copy.

In the few minutes I sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, the house was invaded by “cleaner ants”.

When I put my foot down, I found the floor black with trails of pincer-bearing insects.  They come to clean, carrying off all bits of organic matter, dead insects and excrement, dust bunnies, and crumbs.

I should leave them to do their work – many people just leave when the ants move into the house –

but I just can’t.

In the time it took to grab the jug of soapy water I keep under the sink, I was bitten a dozen times.  And those bites hurt.

I soaped the door thresholds which encouraged the ants to leave the house.

They continued their work on the terrace, covering the floor, walls, and furniture for about an hour.

Then they were gone.  And the terrace was clean except for the ants I killed with soap.  If I hadn’t soaped, I wouldn’t have had to sweep.