Upping the Anti

So, as if German water bugs weren't enough, we are the palatial home to many hundreds of tiny, pinhead size ants, let's call them Indian everywhere ants.  Please don't get the wrong idea that our apartment is home to anything and everything creepy and crawly; I am sure there are much worse things happening elsewhere, and my maid assures me that is the case.  So the Indian everywhere ants are, literally, everywhere.  Their favourite hangout is the black marble kitchen counter-top, the clever little suckers knowing that I can barely see them.  They form weaving lines, dozens at a time, from A to B to C back to B and then into a scarsely visible hole in the wall.  It is a constant battle of wills between me and them; just as quickly as I fill the hole, they create another, and another, coming out of the most creative places to see what tasty treats have been left for them.  A drop of egg yolk on the counter top - their favourite; a small grating of cheese - yummy; and their new favourite challenge, my Origins ginger body scrub in the bathroom!  This week, they have upped the anti.  For several days, there was a trail forming, seemingly going nowhere, and everytime I squished it, it would come back.  Coming home the other evening I was horrified to see hundreds in a clearly defined trail up and around and inside the kitchen cabinet, with some of them even carrying unidentified bits of 'stuff.'  The trail led me to the 'stuff.....'  An unopened, still sealed, plastic bag within a box of Post Cranberry Selects Cereal.  The critters were all over it and, as we found out, all inside it too!  They had managed to gnaw their way in through the box, through the plastic bag, and into the heavenly goodness that is Cranberry Cereal.  At $10 a box here, they clearly chose the most expensive place in the cupboard to live.  But not for long.  They went the way of many of their family and friends - squished under a clorox wipe or sprayed into infinity with yet more toxic noxious probably-not-recommended-in-the-kitchen poison.  I have to say, however, but don't tell them this, that I secretly admire their ingenuity.  They are indeed clever little critters.