I look like I need a drink

Really.  I do.  Just glanced in the mirror.  Awful. 

Funnily enough, though, I never get beer goggles for my own reflection.  I'm usually painfully aware of what a greasy, red-eyed hag I become when I've had too much to drink (which, for me, is more than half a glass of wine).  Really, I'm only a mental binge-drinker.  In reality, I'm a total teetotaler.  Super lame.  But only because I hate that my payment for a night of fun is a full day with my head in the toilet.  If I didn't have the alcohol tolerance of a Chinese toddler, I'd probably be a lot more fun.

But I digress.  I didn't set out to talk about booze, even though the day's events make me want to jump face-first into a bathtub full of grain alcohol.

My intended topic was to communicate an impromptu last will and testament.  I may or may not be dead by tomorrow morning from inhaling mercury fumes.  Can that sort of thing kill you?  If it can, I'm a goner.

The day started off innocently enough, even pleasantly.  I was asleep by nine last night, and awoke with the sun just before seven.  I was sick all week and then I stupidly gave blood at work yesterday, so my body used those ten hours for some hardcore recovering.  Feeling refreshed, I made the bed and did a little straightening up before I made my most favorite breakfast of all time.  Oatmeal with diced apples, raisins, and walnuts, topped off with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, ground ginger, and a splash almond milk.  A nutritional powerhouse, but so good you won't ever want to taint your mouth with anything else. 

Things went a little south after that.  The gym was crowded, and I had to alter my intended workout because a lot of the equipment I wanted was in use when I needed it.  Fart-balls.  I also had to listen to a couple of ham-bones bloviate about these expensive cigars they were going to buy this summer.  After repeating several times that he was going to 'buy the whole box, not just one, but the whole box,' the one guy went on to describe how he was going to enjoy his stogie.  "I'm gonna get some nice rum, throw down some rocks, splash some diet coke on top, and light that baby."  First of all, no one cares, guy.  Second, I wouldn't go around bragging about your little splash of diet coke like that makes you classy or masculine, because I'm pretty sure it is the opposite of both.

Finally, I could abide no more.  I went home and resolved to clean a little before lunch, and then go for a run.
I started in the kitchen by taking out the recycling.  When I returned to start vacuuming, I noticed a quivering black ribbon on the floor where the bag of recyclables had been sitting.  A mass of little tiny ants running to and fro.  I don't like to spray poisonous chemicals around, especially because of the cat, so instead of running out and buying ant spray, my first idiotic reaction was to vacuum up the ants. 

In so doing, I knocked over a burned-out fluorescent tube (that should have been put in the damn dumpster two weeks ago).  It splintered into an infinite number of pieces that shot across the kitchen floor.  After screaming a lot of obscenities, I started vacuuming up these shards of glass, for lack of any better ideas.  When I was almost finished, I was informed that I was going to kill us all and ruin the vacuum by sucking up and spreading around the copious mercury fumes.  Would have been nice to know that before I signed my own death warrant with frantic cleaning, but such is life (and death, apparently).

After sweeping up the remaining shards with a dust pan, wiping down every surface including the floor, and throwing out the vacuum filter, I wanted to punch someone.  Anyone.  I couldn't finish cleaning because my vacuum is now unusable until I have the time and money to buy a new filter.  I was so dejected and defeated that I never did go for my run.  Instead I spent most of the day wallowing in self-pity on the couch, intermittently reading (Under the Banner of Heaven by John Krakauer) and watching On Demand TV shows (Sister Wives). 

At least I got to indulge my morbid fascination du jour - scary religious fundamentalists.

Oh, but we still have ants.  Any ideas for non-poisonous ways to get rid of ants?