After much death and destruction was wrought, the Chop and I looked up household remedies, and I proceeded to shake half a jar of cinnamon all over the counters, using a brush to dust the walls and the bottoms of the cabinets.

I think the Chop thinks I’ve gone over the edge.

The landlord finally got back to us (they were out of town, figures) and so we’ll be calling their exterminator today. Fingers crossed that they come out by this afternoon, ’cause I’m not sure my liver can continue taking the copious amounts of alcohol that I require to forget about the ants long enough to sleep.