Here's to you, ants

I’d like to thank the ants residing in my home. Really, here’s to you, you little beady-eyed bastards. Your yearly pilgrimage from the hill behind the kitchen into the kitchen has certainly kept Matt and I on our toes these past two years. This current rainy season has proved especially entertaining as we struggle to guess where you might turn up next: The sink? The toilet seat? Even, yes -- my pants! Ha! That was a fun, unexpected treat! I think we can all agree, however, that invading the dishwasher proved a tactical error on your part. Touché!

Ants, we know you’re not the kind of houseguests who expect pampering, and so Matt and I keep the food in the fridge and stored away. The house is cleaned daily, so we know you don’t visit us for the killer crumb cuisine. Perhaps you seek the past proprietor, our landlord. He’s much more welcoming than us and doesn’t believe in insecticide or ant traps. He swears you are best corralled by baby powder and has encouraged Matt and I to welcome you with lines of white tucked against each wall and sprinkled across each doorway. How amusing it is to see the adorable white footprints our cats leave throughout the house!

Above all, you and your million-odd siblings have helped me realize No. 864 – despite its cottage charm and incredible San Francisco Bay views -- is not perfect. So you’ve made me feel a little less sad about the big move tomorrow and the impending sale to strangers who will surely fail to appreciate this home as I have. Thank you for that. If I too possessed six appendages, I’d employ each one to simultaneously salute you.