The Ant Crisis

Micro-ants, so cute and cuddly,
Invade my bathroom whenever I err
And leave my toothpaste on a shelf
In the carpeted john. They come from beyond,
Through the walls, from inner spaces they march.
But why the bathroom? Why not my pantry,
A trove of sugary treats and eats
Far more enticing and life-sustaining
Than artificial sweets?
Their radar is strong; thus even taking
The shrewdest precautions (or so I believed),
Like hanging the tube and wiping the sink,
Does not deter them. My only recourse
Is relocation to waterless rooms,
Multistories of books to baffle them,
Their peerless idol enshrined within
Formidable deserts they dare not cross.