ants raze i don't want to kill anything that walks or crawls or flies. not if i can help it. but ants get to me. i must have murdered a whole colony of them eleven summers ago. they came in through the weak wood that hugs an upstairs window. some of them had wings. i've never gone through so much toilet paper away from the bathroom. it hasn't been as bad since then. i think word spread and the ants learned this wasn't the safest place for them to be. but every spring and summer we still get at least a few. i admire their ingenuity. in a lot of ways i think they're pretty incredible. most insects are, when you consider what they're able to accomplish with a brain the size of the head of a pin. but when those tiny legs have tickled your belly while you're lying awake in bed after every sane person has fallen asleep, it'll make you want to set fire to your brain to erase the memory of that feeling. the other night i caught a worker ant making his way down a little green lamp that throws off nowhere near enough light to justify the energy it eats. he was thinking he'd steal some of my meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "not gonna happen," i said. i trapped him in a tissue and packed it so tight i was sure he would be black gruel when i opened my fist. i was wrong. he made it back onto the table. i trapped him and squashed him again. and again. and again. he got loose every time. i started hitting him with the wadded-up prison that couldn't hold him. i wasn't gentle about it. every time i thought he was dead, he found the strength to get back up. "you stubborn bastard," i said. i let him go. anything that fights that hard to stay alive deserves to go out on its own terms. 220406 what's it to you? who go blather from