I am about to get real honest here. I know I am not the best housekeeper ever, but I keep it clean enough. So to say I'm a little stressed right now is a bit of an understatement.
It seems my house is under siege. From fruit flies. And it's my own fault. You see, once upon a time, there was a pitcher. It was filled with sangria and it was wonderful. After emptying it of its contents, I washed it out and put it on the counter, so that I could properly clean it the next time I did dishes. (Which recently, had been pretty often.) I promptly forgot about the pitcher for a few days, or a week-ish. Until I realized that maybe I hadn't washed it out...about the time I figured out where the h-e-double-hockey-sticks all those stupid fruit flies were coming from.
And so, I've spent the last three days trying to kill them all with my SwatMaster 3000---whom I lovingly refer to as Smacky. I'm considering it my cardio, and with all the stretching to reach the little pests, it's practically yoga, too. My bathroom (Why, oh why, can't they just stay localized?) looks like a battlefield. You know what they don't like? The one-two punch of hairspray and Smacky. Oh, the humanity...oh, the carnage...oh, the nervous breakdown my constant swatting is about to give Delilah.
Needless to say, I have learned my lesson. I can't be trusted to do my dishes in a timely manner. I will be drinking my wine straight from the bottle from now on.