Ants in my plants

I hate to say it, but I think the plants the landscapers dropped off yesterday brought with them tiny invaders on six legs. Not more than four hours after the plants for our project were dropped off and tucked into an outside corner of our house, did I find small ants in my front hallway. Many of this first wave suffered death by Dyson, in celebration of my new handheld vacuum. Others were instead squished like, well, bugs. The numbers are fewer today, easily explained by the concentration of plants being spread out across the front and back yards, (pictures will follow after the guys leave today), but nonetheless the breach being discovered, Terminix will make its first visit to our house this evening.

Troy assures me, this is all just part of home-owning, and I have to say my emotional stance on these sorts of things is evolving. I used to feel shame when something uninvited showed up in my home, ants, bugs, mice, flying squirrels, now I just feel vengeance and that famous maternal ferocity toward anything endangering my children. The only slight exception to this emotional evolution is the groundhog formerly known in these parts as Mr. Pricklepants. He seems to have moved on during the commotion in the backyard, evading my attempts to relocate him to someplace more suitable. I didn't know I felt bad about it until last night when I couldn't stand to see the looks on the Bar-Ba-Loots' faces in Dr. Seuss' book, The Lorax, while Troy read it to the kids. I hope at least Mr. Pricklepants does not have crummies in his tummies, and is, much like us, finding ways to adapt to a new environment.