Some years ago, ants invaded my parents home. These tiny ellipses would be found in the kitchen, bathrooms, and bedrooms. The worst was when I would open a bag of cereal to discover that somehow ants had found the tiniest holes to wander into a sugar-coated wonderland. Though my parents fought a fruitless battle, I thought a change in their tactics would alleviate their situation despite the fact that one truly knows that one cannot win against ants when one lives in an apartment building. Simply, there's too much space. So, in the hopes of alleviating one aggravation for mom upon her hospital release, I thought to take on these menaces head on.
I first tried poison ant discs. I've read the directions and understand how they're supposed to work, but often I would find myself moving these plastic pads in the paths of ants. Sometimes, I'd line up four or five to construct a coliseum of sorts, hoping that a labyrinth of discs would draw the ants in; however, the stream of ants would eventually work around them. It seems that it was better to walk around rather than through a maze. Especially ones filled with poison. I should remember that.
Despite my failures with the ant poison discs, I continued to buy more, hoping that one ant would choose the direct path and draw its mates toward doom. But ants don't care about direct paths. They got time.
Next, I tried a poison gel. This works disturbingly well.
I checked an area where I had liberally applied the goo in a well-known ant highway. What I found was a bit unsettling. Dead ants looked like scattered pepper on the tile. Some that were still alive twitched and flailed their limbs and antennae. I don't know why I watched with fascination as these ants lingered closer to death. Did they suffer? Do ants suffer?
