Infestation nation

Somehow while fruit flies were, from what I understand, the plague of the universe this summer, my house managed to largely avoid this infestation. Despite our best efforts to incur the wrath of every fruit fly in Utah Valley through ever present rotting refuse moldering in the sink, and an ever bag-less and therefore horribly mucked up garbage can, covered with the most impressive conglomeration of crusted, vile putrescence ever collected in a college dwelling, our house was pretty much always insect free.

Even my mothers immaculate lair was veritably pillaged by a fruit fly horde near the end of the summer. Which also happened to coincide with my sisters back yard wedding reception. God bless the brave hearts of the poor women who stood for 2 hours attempting to stave off the pestilence that was constantly swirling above the creme puffs, watermelon, and brownie spread with basically futile back and forth swatting motions. They did their best.

As of a week or 2 ago, when mother nature began to mercilessly strap our asses with the frozen whip of Utah's "fall," we suddenly had the first hints of an infestation. I thought we were in the clear, since it had bloody SNOWED. Didn't really suspect fruit flies to have the hearty disposition to be able to persevere through the first snow. But suddenly there they were; they almost had seemed to spontaneously arise from a couple of rotting bananas that one inconsiderate roommate or another had left to fester upon a shelf behind a grocery bag. It was like an insectual second coming; this resurrection of tiny flying creatures shouldn't have been possible. It had been too cold.

Luckily, the infestation was short lived, and within a day or 2 they were gone, once the offending bananas had been disposed of, and the perpetrating roommate had been lynched. However, a remnant of a remnant of these vile flies survived, and have take up residence in my bathroom. Why my bathroom, of all places, I can not understand. There isn't any fruit in there. I don't typically bathe and consume fruit simultaneously. And the bathroom has been kept relatively clean. Some days, I will slay what I think must surely be the last fruit fly in existence. Countless carcasses have I washed down the drain, after having been crushed between the wall and a toothpaste tube, smashed between my 2 hands, or snatched from the air by the speed of my hand; all to no avail. Every day there are new flies. I am beginning to wonder if my resurrection theory is perhaps plausible. Perhaps there is a fruit fly necromancer living down my sink drain, trying to thwart my ability to feel like I'm not living in squalor. Because one never quite feels like they are living in squalid conditions, like when one is surrounded by a whirlwind of fruit flies while brushing one's teeth.

I don't know what to do. I fear that they are here to stay for the winter. Perhaps I have overlooked one benefit to the forthcoming winter misery; there is no way these flies will be able to survive in a house where I can see my breath. A boy can hope.