My heart bleeded, girl

You guys, I just spent three of the most gross, disgusting days of my entire life.

Since Monday, I've been noticing a lot of big flies in the house. They seemed to mostly be in the basement, and by Wednesday morning when I was down there working out, I kept having to stop to kill them. At one point, I almost broke my own nose when one landed on my face and I swatted it away. Wednesday night during the two hour long (and I think maybe that was an hour longer than it should have been) Criminal Minds season finale, I spent the whole time killing flies. I killed around thirty or forty of them, I swear. I would think I had gotten them all, and turn around to see five or six more buzzing around. I will forever associate killing flies with people being fed to pigs. Also, wrt that finale - wt-everloving-f?

And then I opened the door to the small room where the furnace is and OMG there were hundreds of flies in there. I was grossed out beyond belief.

And by yesterday they were beginning to make their way upstairs, all the way up to our bedroom.

So I called the exterminator and he asked me if they were hanging out in the windows and if they were blue. I said yes, and he said they're blow flies and it means there's an animal carcass around somewhere and they won't go away until we find it. GOD, ICK.

Larry searched the basement and sprayed down there and killed what flies he could find. There's no animal carcass anywhere, although last week he did toss some cyanide down a hole by our front sidewalk where the chipmunks have been digging. Maybe there are dead chipmunks down there? The hole is situated pretty close to the window well of the furnace room. That'll teach him to wage chemical warfare against helpless critters, even if they are digging up the foundation of our house.

So today I vacuumed up all the hundreds of dead flies in the basement, and I've probably killed another twenty or thirty today all around the house, but I'm hoping they're just stragglers. We can't get rid of an animal carcass that we can't find, you know?

I feel completely grossed out. They're at least half an inch long and sluggish and in all my damn windows.

Also, Neville doesn't like it when I walk around hitting things with a rolled up magazine. He sits and shivers, huddling in the corner. That makes me wonder about his life before he found us. Or it could have been that my loud cries of triumph every time I squashed one of the suckers flat were disturbing him.

So I started sucking them up with the vacuum hose, dead or alive. Lois said I was scaring her in my zeal, but I felt so invaded.

Then I took a break from slaughtering flies so Lois and I could watch the last five eps of season 2. She was suitably moved and impressed, although when Bobby said, "Don't you think it's time we buried Sam?" in AHBL 2, Lois said, "Yes, because otherwise you'll have blowflies."

I was explaining to Lois about slash and Wincest, and Lar was puttering around eavesdropping, and he said, "On that note, Lois," and I was thinking omg don't tell her I write gay incest, BABY STEPS, but he went into his old rant about why don't I write professionally and make money SO HE CAN RETIRE. He's hasn't done that in a while, but there was much wine consumed last night. He said the reason I don't try is that I'm afraid of "real" criticism, and I told him to go to bed.

I was so busy with the flies and Lois yesterday that by the time I sat down with my computer, most of the prompts for spn_meanttbe were gone, including the one I really, really wanted. So I signed up for another one, which looks like fun, and then today there was a new list of prompts with one I really, really wanted, but I already signed up...you see where this is going. NEVER LEAVE THE INTERNETS FOR HOURS AT A TIME.

I have found a rather large plot hole in my Big Bang story. I confused myself as I was editing today. I must fix that.