they go marching two by two, hurrah!
Last night, I twice woke up, bounding up because my bed was swarming with ants. The first time, I ran out of my room, and decided to flop down onto the couch to sleep. I lay on the couch for a minute or two, went into the kitchen and got the can of Doom spray, and went and sprayed insecticide all over my bed. I was about two-thirds of the way through the spraying process that i realised it.
There were no freaking ants in my bed. It was a dream. And I had gotten out of bed, chosen a different place to sleep, gone into three different rooms, found the insecticide, and used it, before the non-reality of it all dawned on me. WHAT THE HELL.
(By the way, we have an ant problem in our apartment, but it's pretty much confined to the kitchen. Heather goes medieval on those ants, yelling at them, Doom-ing them to death with a look of murderous rage in her eyes. My oft -repeated advice during the Lashing Of The Ants is to 'become one with the ant-ness, heather', or to accept the fact that any insect that will let you wipe them up with a sponge isn't an insect you should get too worried about. Well, looks like someone has been unknowingly disaffirming the reality of their ant-hate. Oh well. If I'm going to discover a sublimated prejudice through my dreams, let it be this.)