I HATE ants.
Seriously it's like they never go away. I find a couple in the kitchen or bathroom and I think I wiped them all out with my Windex-fueled rage... but then all of a sudden, there's a little bastard walking his happy ass all over the computer desk.
Oh yeah, and having dark brown and black speckled granite counter tops really doesn't help. Because now I am obsessed with finding every single one and therefore am scouring the countertops until my eyes cross and I feel like I am trapped in one of those damn Magic Eye books (that first introduced me to the wild world of migraines).
Another less-than-wonderful side effect is that I am now schizophrenic. I'm sure to any outsider I look like an idiot as I have random convulsions whenever a stray hair or slight breeze brushes against my skin because I am certain that it is actually germy little ant feet traipsing all over my body. But this is not an unjustified reaction because they do indeed show up on my skin (about 1% of the time, but that is beside the point) Take for example the other day when about 15 miles away from the house, on the way downtown, I look down and there it is, the little fucker crawling across my arm. I swear it smirked at me. So I flicked it out the window.
Honestly if I didn't hate those big black hairy spiders even more than I hate ants, I would invite them in for an all-you-can-eat buffet. I'm going out to buy my weight in Raid.
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