My toaster is in the living room. The breads are piled haphazardly on the side of the kitchen the ants have not found. Yet. We sweep and clean and wipe. They are still here. They take a long time to eat the poison we've laid out for them. I wish they would DIE already. Die, die, die! Sometimes I take a wet paper towel and smoosh them, hoping to eliminate their trail. It doesn't work, though it is a bit satisfying to see their twitching little bodies go into the trash. (Yes, I'm mean that way. It's *my* kitchen.) Elf cannot wash his hands at this sink any more because he is too short to reach the faucet without leaning against the counter. Yuck.