It is no secret that I hate bugs, flying insects, and creepy crawlies of just about every size, shape, and form. The only bug I can somewhat tolerate is a ladybug. By tolerate I don't mean that I want them in my bed or crawling on me, but I do not feel the need to stop everything and kill them right away.
Something mysterious is going on in our apartment. Let me explain that we live upstairs in an old house. I don't know the year this house was built, but it is so old we have a light switch that I saw in one episode of "The Waltons".
Let me share my story, if you please.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a wonderful chicken dish cooking in the crock pot all day long. Brian came home from work, and while sitting down to relax, we noticed two flies roaming about. (No, they did not come through the door. We have a long staircase between the outside door and the door to our apartment.) There were two more a bit later. Brian and I tag teamed, one with the all-natural bug repellent, and the other with the fly swatter while we chased them around until our place was free from the creepy things at last.
Fast forward to last night.
I made a turkey stew, and it was a quick meal to prepare. No crock pot cooking for hours, permeating the entire house. The whole thing took a half hour at most. As soon as I was done and scooped myself a bowl (Brian had a late night, so I was on my own), what buzzes past my head? You guessed it. I covered my dish and decided to deal with the intruder. Fortunately, he landed on the sink and I swatted him and flushed him down the drain.
It wasn't over.
There were two more, but they didn't go so easily. I armed myself with my all-natural bug repellent and trusty fly swatter, and I donned a hat for good measure. Why of all nights did Brian have to come home late this night? I couldn't do anything else but chase these flies. It took a while, but I FINALLY got the last of the suckers, and Brian came home moments later. He was proud that I am slowing becoming a country girl at last.
So I wonder, is this a PA thing, having houseflies, or an old house thing? I can remember growing up we only had a housefly if the door was held open a little too long and the intruder managed to get inside. Here, we have nothing open, and they only seem to come out for dinner, so I think they must either be in the attic or in the walls. I shudder to think they are lying in wait, ready to fly out when I cook my next meal.
Brian and I hope to have good news to share on this blog soon about a new home. Until then, it's a battle in here!
