I hate ants.

My Sunday morning peace 

was terrorized by tiny creatures, 

the size of two sesame seeds combined.

The most intimate place in the house, 

where I give my consciousness hours of rest, 

has been invaded.

The obsession with why and how 

takes over my mind, 

overriding rational thought 

and overheating my brain cells.

I shudder at the false sensation of something crawling on my skin, 

at the thought of them hiding in my hair.

Am I going crazy?

My body certainly feels like I am.

I'm more chippy and snappy than I mean to be.

I am upset, scrubbing and mopping frantically.

What is happening?

Over just two tiny ants?!

But they are no longer helpless little insects

because they trespassed in my bed.

My bed.

It's absolutely horrendous.

And that's how my Sunday was completely ruined, and everyone else's along with mine.

The end.