Two sticks of butter are sitting on the island in the kitchen. I must make sure they are not voted off by the press-pot and the coffee stir spoon before my roommate gets home to make cookies. They are safe there for now. The ant army hasn't made it that far yet and my assault on them this morning has been a considerable setback in their advances. There is still no sign of them returning through the front door so the only stronghold left appears to be around the kitchen sink. Any and all possible food supply has been cut off and a wintergreen scented foam was launched against them; we will gain victory in the end.
Final victory was accomplished one one front. It was against a large red wasp that had been unwittingly caught behind enemy lines. The large purple fly execution device proved only partly effective. The insect managed to fall into the AC vent while in the throes of death so I am afraid that it's demise was rather more prolonged than I would wish, even for such an enemy as a large red wasp. I wonder if the AC is strong enough to regurgitate its carcass onto the carpet. I hope not.
With such successful morning as a soldier of the realm of the house, I wonder if perhaps, just maybe a period of R and R may be allowed. But no! The butter must remain and so must I.