Every. Single. Fucking. Year.
Literally every year when the seasons change from fall to winter, ants leave my mind. There isn't even a second during the wintertime where I think "hmm, where did all the ants go?". Ants are just one of those things that are such a minuscule part of life that you barely even notice them half the time. They live their lives - which, when you break it down, is a very sad life spent simping for the queen ant to never even acknowledge them - and you live yours, no qualms to be had.
However, as soon as it goes from winter to fall, all hell breaks loose.
My bedroom virtually turns into the beaches of Normandy for these ants, as I assume everyones does.
I literally watched as ants came back for the bodies of their fallen ant buddies. Sure, it's a little sick and cynical but honestly, it's fun to play god every once and a while. Just picture it as if we lived in a video game world and they just keep getting spawn killed in my bedroom. I'll just be typing away on my computer, next thing I know there's one of the little cocksuckers climbing up my leg, presumably to continue climbing until it reaches my brain and takes over my entire body/consciousness. Am I supposed to let it achieve that goal? Certainly not.
Why do ants even exist? Are homes across the world being infected by bugs that even do anything? It's one thing if you told me that ants were out there putting an end to all the spiders, that I can live with. Hell, if that was the case I'd treat ants like royalty. I'll take living with a minor ant problem over a spider problem ten times out of ten, no question.
On the other hand, if they just go around all day, snagging up crumbs and doing whatever the queen asks; then ants can go ahead and fuck themselves. They deserve everything that happens to them. One may ask:
"Ethan, if you hate ants so much, why don't you just hire an exterminator"
To be honest, it's because I don't think the exterminator gives the same personal touch as I otherwise would. Sure, the exterminator would come in and eradicate the problem 1000x faster than I ever could but there's just a part of me that thinks "my room, my problem" ya know. I want to be the one to send them to their tiny little ant graves. They stepped on my turf, time to pay the ultimate price. Unfortunately for the ants, there's not a damned thing they can do about either.
Unless, of course, I happen to run into a large gathering of ants that know me as the mind behind the southwest Connecticut ant genocide, and I get swallowed up like a chopstick up an elderly man's hemorrhoided ass.
The chances those ant pussies show up to my room in a number greater than 3 at a time is highly unlikely, so I think I'm relatively safe. Hopefully, you guys make it through the ant season without having to deal with them too often. Kind of low chances though considering they seem to be in literally every house in the world.
Godspeed my friends. All we can do is count down the days until winter and no more ants.
PS - any people who try and defend the killing of ants can kiss the underside of my bum.