It’s a jungle out there. Plenty of sub-human life has it out for us.

Or should I say “non-human”? That might be more politically correct. Sub-human implies that other life forms are subordinate to us, that we’re a master race.

Sub-human or non-human, an ant is still an ant and a wasp is still a wasp. And I am no environmental purist.

I am willing to go nuclear to kill an ant. When there’s a wasp nest to remove, my tool of choice is preferably toxic.

A stick would work as well as wasp spray, and without the environmental complications. But poking with a stick requires bravery and an ability to flee at Olympic speeds.

I am not that brave or that fast. Better to spray from 10 feet and not worry about angry wasps embedding in my hair.

When the kitchen ant invasion came last month, my inclination was to blast away with ant killer and let the petrochemical mist fall where it may.

Over clean dishes? Threatening food safety?

Sure. Whatever. In war there is always collateral damage.

I would have blasted, too, but Cheryl hates ant spray. And because it leaves a tell-tale smell, she would have discovered what I had been up to.

Reluctantly, I put aside my weapon of choice and went to what may or may not be a superior alternative: droplets of slow death stashed behind the toaster.

It takes many days, if not weeks, for legions of ants to drink the droplets, carry the seeds of their destruction back to their colony, then wait for the lethal results.

We had ants parading across our kitchen counter from the Fourth of July into early August, feasting and partying and having an altogether jolly good time while we confined our food prep to a tiny square of Formica, making sure we left behind not a single crumb.

Vanquishing ants is child’s play compared to the fight against mildew. Mildew, having established a beachhead on the exterior of our house years ago, has us under siege.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s winter or summer, hot or cold, wet or dry, the mildew is out there, expanding its grip.

If one did nothing, I know exactly what would happen. Our entire house would soon be shrouded in black spores.

You know the charming ice house in “Dr. Zhivago”? Our house would be like that, but evil.

There are proven methods for beating back mildew. As far as I know, they all involve bleach.

Bleach is a powerful product. With the right dilution, and by following the instructions, one can theoretically kill the mildew without ruining the painted and stained surfaces that one is trying to leave intact.

I say “theoretically” because I have a track record of winning mildew battles but losing the mildew war. More than once I have trashed the stained finish on our wrap-around porch.

It happened again this summer. I ridded the porch ceiling and railings of mold, but left the flooring a mottled mess.

Cheryl couldn’t believe it. Not again. Not after she made me promise not to bleach the daylights out of our porch ever again.

I offered to restain the porch myself. I always do.

And she declined. She always does. Simply put, I wouldn’t do a good enough job.

Both of us felt grumpy. She had a major staining project ahead of her. I much preferred to correct a mess of my own making.

Cheryl has what I believe are unscientific notions about killing mildew. She believes that bleach isn’t necessary, that a mild detergent will do the job just fine without damaging stained surfaces.

I believe this is poppycock. Detergent may give the appearance of victory over spores, but they’re still there, lurking. Only bleach-based products kill.

As right as I know I am, I must confess that my mildew victories are short-lived. It always comes back. Sometimes in the same season.

Are the spores migrating off the roof? From nooks and crannies? Are they being harbored by the landscaping?

No one ever tells you that when you buy a house you’re signing up for eternal combat against fungi. Season after season, year after year, with victory seemingly within your grasp, but always proving elusive.

Discouragement, thy name is mildew.

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com