I got up this morning, groggy. I forgot that I had set my alarm for 5:45am the day before, and expected it to be set for 5:00am, as usual. So, I jumped out of bed with a startle when I realized what time it was.
I stumbled into the kitchen to wash the cast iron skillet I had used the night before and left with a bit of water in the bottom to soak the food off the bottom. After finishing, I turned to place it on the stove and noticed that the ground was covered in coffee grounds all, seemingly, stemming from two piles. I didn’t remember spilling coffee grounds, so I was a bit curious as to how they got there.
None the less, I grabbed the broom and flicked on the brighter light to begin sweeping them up, the room still blurry from my sleep. I crouched down over the main pile for closer inspection. Then my foot started itching. As I went to scratch it, I looked a little closer.
These were not coffee grounds. They were moving. And… OW! They were biting. I jumped backed. They were ants. LOTS of them. Apparently, I had neglected to pick up two small pieces of potato from the floor the night before, and these ants invited themselves to a fiesta in my kitchen.
I would have loved to save the little fellows, sure. But, how to manage a, now angry from your disturbance, pile of ants long enough to contain *all* of them and get them outside? I decided to opt for plan B. I emptied a new can of Raid on to my kitchen floor. After coughing up both of my lungs from the inhalant, and swallowing them again, I sat and watched until they all slowly stopped swimming.
Bastards.