Sometimes I imagine the ants in my apartment building as the last of a long brigade, part of a collective journey from a giant ant colony deep in a faraway jungle, carrying important information relayed from ant to ant. The persistent continuation of a vague but determined mission of collection, my existence merely a waypoint along theirs.
Ants and their relentlessness are fascinating and humbling, a machine worthy of the true definition of awesome. A formidable adversary.
After purchasing an orange can of insect repellent, I fell into a sort of cold war with the ants: Perhaps catching wind of my purchase, they have backed off a little from their insatiable search for sugar, giving me no cause to break the seal on the orange can.
This strange détente is either more meaningful or more banal than I imagine, but I have no doubt that in the end my respect for the ant will remain.