Forget about imaginary cats named dog because a real ant is now living inside my keyboard.
I saw it yesterday while throwing together the minutes of Wednesday’s senior staff meeting, and just as I was up to the part where Mr A couldn’t remember if the minutes of the last minutes had been amended or not, a black spec scurried across the ridge of my keyboard before darting in between F11 and F12.
I’ve never used either of these buttons before, so for all I know, they might be there to serve as homes away for home for itinerant ants, but my concern is if there are others in there, or even just one other but of the opposite sex, and they started getting their antennas in a knot, because enough lint and food scraps have fallen between the keys to feed a whole colony. And then what? Would these tiny creatures gang up and demand that I stopped tapping on their roof, and if I didn’t, would they know me from my scent, eventually track down where I live, and munch into my supply of Tim Tams?
I think it’s safest to take Stampy’s lead and do what he did best,
Ms queen-of-all-things-small-and-smaller M.
