It’s probably no surprise to you that I’m a wuss.
Walked into my kitchen this afternoon to discover that the mug which I had used last night for my pre-sleep milo was covered in ants. Pants. Dropped the mug in the sink and swam the ants away. Felt bad for the ants.
This afternoon I found an ant bait station in the cupboard with a top-up bottle, so put the station on the bench, topped up the juice and left it to do its thing. Forgot about it. These things don’t even work. Right?
Walked into the kitchen tonight to find the bench fair teeming with ants. Sure, there were lots of dead ants around the bait, but there were lots more ants that couldn’t make it close. What to do?
I should confess at this point that I’m a bit of a scardy-cat when it comes to creepy crawleys (of any shape, size or threat). Moths, cockroaches, flies, ants. I don’t much like them being around me when they’re alive, and I don’t much like them when they’re dead either. Outside, fine. But not in my house.
So, I reached for the trusty can of flyspray. Death in a can.