Ant showdown

My mom is not like the dad from My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding in most respects. Clearly she's not a man, she's not Greek, and she never tried to convince me to work in a restaurant for the rest of my life. However, she does love windex. It has always been her weapon of choice for doing battle with ants.

So, when I discovered that our driveway and flower beds (and by that I mean areas covered in wood chips and dying bushes that were planted years ago by people who are not me) were teeming with the little vermin, I decided to get out my handy-dandy windex spray. Except that I don't use windex anymore. I use the clorox greenworks save-a-tree, hug-a-dolphin, and somehow lower the temperature of the entire globe 100% "natural" cleaning spray. So, I wasn't sure if it would slay the ants. In fact, it says right on the label that it has never been tested on animals. I'm sure this is exactly what they meant.

Armed with my cleaner I began my assault on one of the hundred or so different trails I could find on the driveway and front walk. Let me tell you, if the clorox people ever did test their spray on ants, PETA would have a field day . . . it kills them and fast. I went through 3/4 of a bottle of the stuff, killing every ant in sight. Especially the really hardy looking ones . . . I figure they're the leaders of the pack. Now I realize that when battling billions of ants, there's no way I can kill every single one. And, being the tenacious little creatures that they are, I'm sure they will ignore the carnage in their path and resume their search for the empty pizza box in the trash can. I conceded that my battle was over for now as I had run out of rounds, I mean cleaning spray. I saw the last little stragglers, the few, the proud. But, like Wyatt Earp in Tombstone, I told them to give the others a message. I said, "You tell 'em I'm comin', and hell is comin' with me." As soon as I get back from Walmart.