Comments on: Home Again, But Not Alone

By: meg

meg — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 22:32:02 +0000

Depends on how you define “hate.” I hate beets the way that ants hate soap, in that we’ll eat them/it if pushed but would strongly prefer not to.

I wouldn’t describe myself as hating plutonium, but my feelings about plutonium are probably similar to ants’ feelings about ammonia (the main ingredient in Windex).

If ants had any feelings, of course, which one doubts. In terms of bad karmal points, I have, when under attack, wished that they *did* have emotions just so they would feel the Great Windex Death even more.

By: KF

KF — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 21:24:46 +0000

For better or for worse, it’s real wood. Engineered wood (meaning finished before it gets installed), but real. I wonder if a solution of Murphy’s and water might work. Do ants hate soap?

By: meg

meg — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 18:44:44 +0000

Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Do you have real wood, rather than Pergola or whatever that stuff is?

If you have the Pergola, you should be okay. We had that in our SF loft, and since you wipe up the Windex (now body-strewn) afterwards, the floor doesn’t get that much ammonia exposure.

By: KF

KF — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 17:59:08 +0000

Oh, I’ve got no problem with watching bugs writhe, something which no doubt earns me major karmal demerits. But I do have a problem with screwing up the finish of my lovely wood floors. I’ll have to check and see if Windex is safe there, but I fear it won’t be…

By: meg

meg — Tue, 05 Jul 2005 17:09:08 +0000

Windex, my friend. Squirt the trail well with it, sit back, and enjoy the sight of writhing formicular bodies.

They’ll make another trail—that is now the Donner Pass of ant trails—a few days later, and you’ll do the same again.

It will take them longer to build the next trail, and longer for the next, etc., but you will do the same each time. Eventually, they get the idea.

All for the cost of a bottle of Windex.

Believe me, I’ve been through the Bug Wars. It sounds too easy to be true, but it works. (Unless, like a friend, you’re too soft-hearted to watch them writhe, in which case you’ve got a problem.)