Scants

By which I mean there are no ants about lately. Haven't seen one walking about like it owned the place in days. It seems not that long ago that the climate was balmy and long lines of the nasty little things were snaking industriously along my windowsills and baseboards, down the walls and up the table legs. And now the chilly weather is here, and they aren't. I feel like a French farmer, watching the Germans packing up and rolling eastward as the Allied armies advanced after D-Day. I've endured an occupying army, and now I've outlasted them. There's a certain sullen triumph in that. Bon voyage, you little bastards.