Dirty dogs and ants in my pants

First came the dirty dog then came the ants, both almost made me want to throw a temper tantrum that would put a two-year-old to shame. It's been raining cats and dogs or at the very least small rodents the last couple of days. Youk has churned his straw strewn kennel into a straw strewn mud pit. It's awesome. Not really. He trotted by me on his way out of his kennel, hit my clean work pants with his filthy tail and headed into the house where he promptly shook. That's right, mud everywhere - the walls, the couch, the lamp shades, not too mention the paw prints. I resolved to give him a bath. On our way to the tub he managed to hit several walls and the refrigerator. I scrubbed Mr. Magoo then spent the next hour and a half scrubbing the house, the tub, the walls, the floors, and the furniture. And it was good.
This morning, I woke up, ran, came home, grabbed my laundry bin, and headed to do some wash before work. I flipped on the kitchen light on my way to the washroom and was startled and none too happy about the mile long trail of ants that made a thick black trail across my kitchen floor, up my cabinets, and across the length of my kitchen counter. Frustrated, and slightly irate, I grabbed my mop bucket, still out from the night before, and proceeded to disturb the line-up. I sprayed down and wiped the counters and sponged up any strays I could find. Then I ate, I showered, and I came out of my room to find 10,000 more ants carrying away what was left of my kitchen. So I turned off the lights and walked out the door. Good luck with that, roommate.