I threw out some strawberries. I remembered this because the next time I went to throw something out, fruit flies greeted me with much fanfare. Funnily enough, my friend had this problem the day before, so you think I would have been more attentive to my strawberry disposal. But, no, because that would not be like me.
I thought I had gotten rid of them all, and figured if I hadn't, well, those little guys aren't long for this world anyways. There was one this morning in my bathroom, but I let him live to be kind and yoga-like, and because those tiny 24-hour living winged creatures helped to teach me about genetics in high school—red eyes versus black eyes and such. So Mr. FF flew freely around my bathroom. I left for work and forgot about him.
Until now. I came home, decided to brush my teeth, and what did I find? Ten (give or take a few) fruit flies having a town hall meeting on the head of my toothbrush. So, I guess there was more than one, and I guess they met each other, and I guess got to know each other "in a biblical sense" and decided that my toothbrush was a fantastic place to live. Well, I disagree. So now, unkind and un-yoga-like I killed as many as I could catch a left a soapy vinegar trap for the rest. (My friend with the fruit fly issue tells me this works.)
To the fruit fly gods, I apologize for the Garden Street massacre, but you should apologize to my wallet because those Sonicare brush heads are expensive and I do not appreciate them becoming laden with fruit flies and their larva. Gross.
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