Does anyone remember how I spent like 80 hours a week taking care of fruit flies my sophomore year at Taylor? That was undoubtedly the most heinous and disgusting biology project I was subjected to during my college career. As a direct result of this project, I realized that I no longer believe that very small flying bugs are diverse life forms, but rather, they all fall into the repulsive bug category of fruit flies. Gnats do not exist; they are mere figments of my childhood dream world in which the creatures did not carry disease or have little red eyes that could stare back from under a microscope. Rather, they are all potential health hazards that I believe, though perhaps falsely, arrive and prevail in the presence of rotten trash and will, eventually, kill me. Or at least, I am confident that they have the power to make my stomach contents revolt against me.
The point of this is that we have two small houseplants that attract the wretched bugs in spite of my best efforts and my expensive planet- and people-friendly insecticide. They follow me into every room of the house and somehow manage to escape every potential death trap. But today I managed to murder two of them, and I do not feel bad about it. And I'll get them all if it's the last thing I do.
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