The ants go marching, milling, nibbling...

Last night I was sitting in my chair nursing Lucy when I noticed an ant biting me. It wasn't one of the ants I'm accostumed to, the black carpenter ants. It was a tiny red ant that I'd never seen before. I felt like a cartoon who was zoomed in on the one ant, then zoomed out, then out again to see all these ants crawling all over the burp rag, the nursing pillow and my chair. I frantically gave the (luckily contented) baby to my brother who was luckily at hand, and set about to vacuum them up and figure out what to do next. It completely freaked me out, because I didn't know if these were just small fire ants (a friend very recently had her daughter bitten by hundreds of fire ants), or what they were, so I was completely freaked out. To be sitting cozily in my chair feeding my baby, then feel completely invaded was a bit nightmarish. I think I have a phobia or something, because it took me a couple of hours to settle down again. I have a pretty clean mouth (I'll have to tell the story behind that later), but I reserve one bad word for ants, which basically describes them literally and metaphorically. In essence, I make sure people know that their parents were never married.