This morning I was awakened by the bug man at my door. I (finally) called the office yesterday and told them about my fly problem. In the last week I've killed so. many. flies. and it's so. gross. The guy said they're probably the kind of flies that grow up on dead animals, so maybe there was something dead outside my window. I mean, seriously, that's the kind of information he could have kept to himself. He sprayed outside, and told me to get myself some bug-killing spray. "Especially for the summer," he said. Oh dear. The minute I thought about having my own apartment in North Carolina last year I started worrying about bugs. And I won't even be here most of the summer, so every time I come in I fear I'm going to greeted by one big bug nightmare. I'll just have to make sure I have a flip flop handy.
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