I hate
bugs.
No, really. I can't stand them. And my house seems to be full of them. I went downstairs a couple of weeks ago to clean the hamster's cage, and there was an immense cricket in the sink - scared the hell out of me, I got all upset and panicky over it. A week after that I went down to the same room to look in the fire safe for my passport, and found a cricket of similar size in the middle of the floor. It left me alone and I left it alone, but it still had me squicked.
Then there have been the little black things that were flying around the bedroom and were really hard to squish. They were small, though, and there were only a couple of them and they only came out late at night - but they still grossed me out.
And now there are flies. These are not fruit flies or little itty bitty flies. These are HOUSes: Houseflies Of Unusual Size. They are louder than a mosquito and prefer to frequent the kitchen, office, and bedroom: the rooms I like to spend time in. I have hung a strip of flypaper in each room and they're catching the occasional fruit fly, but these HOUSes are bigger, faster, stronger. So far I've seen two ran into the strip, flail about for several minutes, give up, flail about some more - and get away. The strip in the kitchen has caught one, who is attached by its wings and starving to death. One cooked in the halogen lamp near the strip in the bedroom, which smelled lovely but was effective until the lamp clicked off again - something's wrong with it.
There are some other smaller, less scary bugs that come around too. My girlfriend says it's because there's a dead thing in the house, but I don't think the killer cat has brought anything in lately - I haven't smelled it. Fortunately she's coming home tonight from travel, so I can show her what I've been whining about all week. Hopefully we can kill them all before she leaves again Monday.