The fruitflies have invaded.

They came in last week, actually, when I brought two bunches of bananas home to ripen for banana bread. In an attempt to avoid exactly this scenario, I'd let the bananas get dark and spotty (better bread) inside freezer bags. To no avail, apparently.

The fruitflies are everywhere.

It's a strange infestation. They're too small to be gross, and there aren't enough of them to really bother me. (What's your fruitfly threshold, America?) They don't get on the food because I don't leave food out, they're mortally afraid of me, and I think I've only accidentally swallowed one.

It's not so bad, as infestations go. I'd rather have the fruitflies than the ant problem I had in D.C. — I resorted to keeping my cereal in the fridge after they got into three different boxes — or any of the many small mammals we've had in my parents' house. Here's one of the flying squirrels we caught in the stickytrap:



It's with a nice farm family in the country now, running free in their big yard.

(They're annoying to have in the house, but it still frustrates me that we've never actually seen a flying squirrel in our yard. Everyone knows the squirrel coolness ranking goes albino, flying, black, red, chipmunk, gray. Well, maybe chipmunks are cooler than I'm giving them credit for, but still.)

I'm not sure I'll be able to get rid of the fruitflies. They seem to need so little, and while my apartment is clean, it's only clean proportional to me. I can hardly get rid of every infinitesimal crumb and drop of moisture.

Or perhaps...

No, I can't stand for this. Tomorrow I take the war to their level.