It is autumn, and for some *&?%!$! reason, I cannot get past the fruit flies.

They came in July, they lingered through August, and I was sure, absolutely positive that the change in the weather would spell their demise. But no. September has come, September is well nigh gone, and still, still, still the fruit flies.

And please don’t tell me about controlling them with the strips, the apple cider vinegar, the this, the that. We’ve tried them all and, with each new attempt, I hear a faint, distant cackling, The sound of … fruit flies laughing.

Yes, of course I realize that perhaps there might be more important things to worry about. There’s a war somewhere, if I’m right, or maybe two, or three. And I think there’s an election coming up. And that gosh darn climate change, there’s that to worry about, also.

But honestly, which of these can compete with the madness of trying to rid your kitchen of fruit flies? “It’s a First-World problem,” you snort. No, I’m sure they have fruit flies in all of the worlds, one through three. Maybe four, too.

And, admit it, while it’s nice to hold a baby and it’s pleasant to win the lottery, nothing is so satisfying as reaching out with your hands and following a fruit fly as it lazily meanders through the air and – SMACK – you slap your palms swiftly. Oh, but then you open your hands and find … no fruit fly. No satisfaction.

How do they do that? How do fruit flies always, always, always avoid getting smacked? Is it the change in air pressure as your hands come together? Is it some innate sense learned from tens of thousands of years of evasion, going back to Neanderthals swatting at flies in the caves? Is it (dare I ask) … AI?

Of course, there is the rare, oh-so-very-rare occasion when you do manage to kill one. At that point, the obvious question arises: do fruit flies have souls?

For instance, perhaps you try not to kill spiders. You recall that the Chinese believe that spiders bring good luck and so when you come across a spider indoors, you carefully lift her (him? it? they?) onto a rolled-up paper and carry her/him/it/them outside.

Perhaps you refrain from stepping on ants. You remember the terrible tortures you imposed on ants when you were a child and so you think, “I’ll just step aside” and you avoid that really scary pile of ants on the front walk.

Perhaps you no more swat at flies. You’re just too old, they’re just too fast, it’s just not worth it. So you keep ignoring that buzzing in the room and live as let live.

But … fruit flies? Now c’mon, they’re an entirely different kettle of insects, aren’t they? For example:

·       Do fruit flies have souls? No.

·       Can you train a fruit fly? No.

·       Has any New-York-and-Maine-based author written an endearing children’s book about how a fruit fly saves a pig? Nope.

(And by the way, if you’re wondering how I know that fruit flies don’t have souls, the answer is ridiculously obvious: because I know.)

But seriously, October is coming on, they’ve got the Halloween and the Christmas decorations out at CVS, I lugged the air conditioner out of the bedroom window – and we still have fruit flies.

The heck, is this some climate change thing? Do I have to move to the Yukon? Don’t tell me to keep my kitchen counters clean, they’re so clean now I could use them for neurosurgery. And don’t tell me to buy some miracle product you read about online, I bet it’s a scam. And don’t tell me, wait, don’t tell me anything, just keep quiet. I think I see a fruit fly over there.