Last night, after a tremendous thunderstorm, the awful ants came out. They are so named by me because they have wings and they can push their little squirmy bodies through screens, fly into a house, then promptly shed those wings so they can get it on on the floor. The wings go everywhere--in your sink, on your toothbrush, in between your sheets. Aghh! And the awful ants never come out in moderation; they come out in hordes.
I could actually hear the the awful ants coming. The storm was abating, and I was standing outside. The night seemed for a moment to get calmer and sweeter. Then just as the thunder was fading away the awful ants took up the tune. Wah!! I could hear the sound of their wings. I ran into my house and turned off all my lights so they couldn't find me. (Does this sound like a horror movie? It is.)
