Ants

If you are a Foreign Service mom, or perhaps the mother in some other brand of expatriate family, it's probably safe to say that you have seen your fair share of bugs.  I'd also like to think that these insects have at one point or another driven you to tears.  Otherwise, it's just me that's neurotic.

Here on the Embassy compound, there is a bit of an ant problem.  A couple months ago, they decided to lay claim to our living room (which is on the ground floor and opens out to a backyard).  I got some ant traps, ferreted out their nest and flooded it with gallons of boiling water, and dumped copious amounts of cinnamon along the door opening outside.  We still see an ant or two occasionally, but after about three weeks of warfare, most of the problem had disappeared.

I had heard from neighbors (those who, I though, had been slightly less vengeful) that the ants were crawling up the walls and coming into their bedrooms.  I shuddered and was secretly thankful that I'd boiled the little buggers alive before they'd thought to do this.

And then today, I shuddered again, when I saw them - swarms of them, many of which had sprouted disgusting little wings - crawling around under the radiator in the master bedroom (which is upstairs) and buzzing in and out of the draperies.  And then I cried. (It had been a long and trying day already, but something about swarms of little bugs that you can't seem to get rid of is particularly upsetting to me).

I know blog posts are better with photos but I simply cannot bring myself to take one.  I can barely bring myself to sleep there, let alone create proof of the problem.

I found this, though:

 
I know these are not termites, but somehow that doesn't make me feel any better.