For the past week, my house has been under siege. Oh, I could wax all metaphorical about the upcoming election season and the incessant calls from Mitt Romney and Scott Brown, but that's not it. I might be tempted to take another poke at Comcast - although things do seem to have settled back down to something approaching normal. There's a strong case to be made about it being the kids doing the sieging - they're home from school for the summer, a week before summer camp starts, and they're doing their best to make us long for 365 days of school...
No. We're besieged by flies. Actual, honest-to-goodness flies. Somehow we've been overrun by the damned things; I theorize it's because housekeeping has always been more of a theoretical construct than an actual one. We're usually more concerned about finding time to feed the kids and make sure they actually have clean(ish) clothes to wear rather than getting rid of the dustbunnies (at this stage, I think they actually qualify as dust capybara).
So for the past week we've been waging war against the flies. Fly paper. Fly strips. Fly swatters. Swirling Deltamethrin of death on the suspected gathering places outside the house, allegedly natural agents inside - mainly flyswatters and rolled up newspapers, with the occasional towel thrown in for good measure. I tried to call in reinforcements, but the cowards at Terminix wouldn't take the job (actually, in all seriousness, they were very professional about it and explained why they don't treat for flies - basically, without a traditional nest there's almost no way to chemically get rid of them).
This is way worse than the ant infestation of two (three?) years ago, where an extremely snowy winter followed by a very wet spring meant a very high water table that forced the ants to higher ground - our kitchen. Several (dozen) ant traps and sprays later, we were ant-free. Plus, there's the fact that ants are (more or less) limited to two dimensions. Sure, they can climb, but they're not going to buzz directly into your face when you're brushing your teeth, causing you to scream worse than your daughter. Not that I've done that. Ahem.
I think we're turning a corner though - today I've only killed a couple dozen of the little black bastards, and right now I'm looking around the kitchen, I actually don't see any. We've been cleaning frantically, bleaching out the bathrooms, Lysoling the holy bejeezus out of any area where the kids may have conceivably left food particles - or, in my son's case, a pile of old sweaty socks... Good job, TheBoy... The one bright spot to this ordeal has been that it has forced us to pay much greater attention to cleanliness - you could eat off the floor right now, except that it's littered with scores of fly carcasses (at least the remnants thereof).
We shall go on to the end. We shall swat them on the curtains, we shall swat them in the bathrooms and in the bedrooms and in the hallway, we shall swat with growing confidence and swinging swatters in the air, we shall defend our kitchen island, whatever the
cost may be. We shall swat on the windows, we shall swat on the stairs, we shall swat in the fields and in the streets, we
shall swat in the hills; we shall never surrender.
I think one of them flew into my brain; does it show?
That is all.