Stop Pushing

See? I update! I update!

You know, sometimes. Like now! When somebody tells me that I have not done so recently enough. Of course, I have nothing much to say. Well, that's not exactly true. I have lots of things to say but I don't really feel that this is the time or place for confession.

So let me share with you a little problem I have. Ants. In my laundry. In the house I am in right now, the laundry area is right next to the front door. That seems very odd to me, but nobody asked my opinion so there you have it. So I had been leaving a laundry basket near the washer and tossing dirty clothes in there for a while. It seemed preferable to having them all over the floor. But the other day I happened to notice (I never use the front door) a line of ants snaking (along the grout lines) from the door to the laundry basket. And lo and behold but the laundry is covered with freaking ants. Especially my socks. Why do they like my socks so damn much?

They're not even particularly nice socks. Just white crew lengths that I'm sure I bought at Wal-Mart back when going to that hell hole was convenient. I'm quite sure my floor is not a sterile environment. There is surely a crumb or two that the broom has missed. (I never sweep under the couches.) So why the pilgrimage to my socks? I do not understand.

And I have to admit that there is a (small) part of me that would like to let things remain as they are to see if they would eventually devour my socks completely. Or maybe everything but the lycra. The other, smarter, part of me is determined to find the source of the ants and pour poison all the fuck over it.