Ants

We have ants.  And not hordes of ants, just one or two little "scout" ants who try to find any goodies and report back to their buddies where the stash of crumbs under the toaster fabulous ant nibbles are.  I convinced the Hubs that we needed ant traps after a full day of spraying orange Fantastik on any ant that dared make its way onto our countertop.  (It works and I didn't have Raid.  Bonus - the kitchen smelled nice and the counters got cleaned.)  Anyway, Daniel came home with Amdro ant traps.  Awesome - Amdro is what we used on fire ants in Texas and it was a miracle-worker.  Those little suckers loved the stuff.  Evidently, Indiana ants are smarter than Texas ants.  They will not go near the stupid traps.  I've even tried to nonchalantly move the traps into their walking path so they'll take a nibble.  No dice.  The scout ants run away like they somehow KNOW it's a little box of poison waiting to end their tiny ant lives.  Dangit.  Maybe I'll just have to resort back to my Fantastik...

Family is coming to visit!

Why is it that I start freaking out about the cleanliness of my house when my parents are coming to visit? I think there is something ingrained in us as children (probably only female children) that kicks in, as if our mothers are going to walk in with a white glove and do a spot check to see if our house is "clean enough." Of course, my parents have reassured me that they don't care how clean or dirty my house is. But if you happen to try and call me on Thursday night, I might not be able to hear you over the vacuum cleaner.