I feel like I’ve kind of lost my blogging mojo lately, mostly because life has been insanely busy, but also because of the fruit flies. We have been under a vicious plague of fruit flies since Thanksgiving, and I’m beginning to believe that they are zombie fruit flies sent to suck all the creative juices out of my body, and damn, they are doing a good job of wearing me out.
I mean, I have put a ban on all counter fruits, and haven’t bought bananas in weeks. And we’ve tried the glass of wine/balsamic vinegar/orange juice on the counter with the saran wrap/baggie on top, and the trap does catch them, but no matter how many end up in the cup, there’s always three or four floating lazily around the kitchen, or flying right into my face when I’m watching TV, or gathering for a party in the upstairs bathroom. At Thanksgiving itself, poor FameThrowa and Mr. Chatty had to practically chug their red wine, because the moment they set their glasses down they each had three drowned fruit flies in there, and my nephew killed at few dozen by squishing them against the patio door screen, yet still they come. And come. And come. Actually, I’m not convinced I’m seeing new generations here – these fruit flies are oddly slow-moving and larger than usual and definitely give off the vibe of the undead.
Here’s a creepy story: the other day I was heating up a cup of water in the microwave for hot chocolate and a fruit fly happened to fly into the microwave when the door was open, and I didn’t feel like waiting for him to get out so I just shut the door. And a minute later, on high, I open the door and out he floats like, no big deal.
So I think the zombie fruit fly thing is fully confirmed, don’t you?
I am convinced now that we have a piece of rotting fruit somewhere in this house, like in the bowels of the storage room or maybe in some kid’s backpack or possibly inside the kitchen drain, and it will continue to feed the zombie hoard for years to come. Guess our house will be popular on Halloween, at least.