Remember The Shoemaker and the Elves? Every night the poor shoemaker and his wife would go to sleep, and every morning they would wake to find his work done--and prosperity building. We don't have elves. We have teenagers.
That means that every morning I wake to find they've been cooking. Dishes everywhere. I have to clean the kitchen, before I can do anything in there, like, say, cook.
And as of yesterday, we also have ants. Because, you know, sealing food up in tupperware or a ziploc bag is for boring, old people who don't have, like, better stuff to do, man. God.
So please IM me, or email me, or call. I shall have my laptop in the kitchen all day, while I eliminate the infestation.
Maybe I'll bake some sacrificial sweet goods, too, so they won't have a need to make their own, come midnight.