DIE!

Every year at our house, we have an invasion take place.

The ants are coming.

Big. Black. Crawling. Ants.

Yesterday morning Sara was awoken early by the little bastards crawling all over her bed. She was smashing them with a flashlight.

I have taken the remote and a water bottle after them. I've sent two down the sink.

Under normal circumstances I would be nice and let the suckers go, but this is war and I've already had enough.

The poison's on every single windowsill in the bedroom trying to control the horde.

Every year when the weather is warm and wet, they come out of the walls like some sort of horror movie creatures. And we smash them. We drown them. We try to kill off as many as are visible. And they're still everywhere.

In the meantime, we will smash them with anything that's handy.

Ta,
Bec