WARNING: SARCASM ABOUT TO PREVAIL
If, one day, you realize there are three flies in your house? And, if, the next day, you realize there are seven? Don't just look at them and say, "Huh. I wonder where they came from."
But if that's what you did? (Because, in fact, that is what I did.) Two days later, get ready to spend the entire evening swinging wildly at the walls and ceiling with dishtowels and WalMart flyers.
C'mon, it's summer, everybody gets the odd fly in their house, right? But we killed over thirty during this evening's massacre, and many more escaped and are still here somewhere.
We have never had a fly infestation like this, in all the years we have lived here. Husbandly One is wandering around, his eyes trained on the ceiling, one of my good yellow dishtowels in hand, audibly wondering where the hell they are coming from.
On a totally unrelated note, 23 year old Step Son just brought up the dirty dishes from his bedroom and almost completely filled the dishwasher with slimy glasses and cereal bowls crusty with old milk.
Gee, honey, I have no idea where the flies are coming from. What a mystery.