Fruit Fly OUTTA Here!

Now everyone knows – or at least should know – that I have a very adverse reaction to all things creepy crawly. I shan’t go into further details, just read down a few blogs and you’ll see.

But a seemingly harmless little bugger (no pun intended) has really started to bother me as of late.

Yes, Drosophila melanogaster, I loathe thee.

Fruit fly, fruit fly, shoo shoo shooooo!
There just simply isn’t enough room in my teeny apartment (as much as I adore it) for those pesky little pests! My lack of separation between kitchen and bedroom is totes fine...until the fruit flies come a begging.
Seriously. I don’t understand why those pernicious little creatures have to weasel their way into MY apartment.

There are no lackadaisical bananas browning themselves for banana bread. No apples exposing their sweet, waxy skin in a come-hither-esque way. No strawbs or bluebs or rasps bejeweling my counter.

Why? BECAUSE I HAVE NO COUNTER!
Therefore I never, ever leave fruit out. Or food for that matter. No bread, no cheese. No tomatoes. Rarely a glass-o-vino

My abode offers no temptation for those wretched little scoundrels. So why oh WHY do they insist on lumbering lazily around? Especially around mealtimes? How do they know????It must be those ginormous, über vicious, crimson colored eyeballs (so scary!), because I highly doubt they have the olfactory glands of a hound dog. There ain’t no room on that body!

Where do they come from? Perhaps they fly under my door. Maybe my neighbor is a banana bread aficionado and his apartment is ridden with dark brown bananas. And because there's so many of their brethren over there, they fly on over to mine in search of mas bananas.

Or perhaps it’s my Warm Vanilla Sugar (2001, anyone?) hand soap. Or my pomegranate dish soap. Or my other coconut milk hand soap.

Maybe they're totes into peony/tuberose/coconut/Japanese blossom/grapefruit lotion (once a product girl, always a product girl).
But I suppose my one saving grace in this lose/lose situation is the fact that those little shits have a lifespan of ten days.

Hallelujah.

(Please, I beg you - for the sake of my sanity, don’t mention the fact that they lay eggs within the span of that week and a half life cycle. I do not want to think of more baby bugs growing up in my apartment.)