At some point over the last few days, I found myself asking a question I never expected to be asking in my own home:
Who did we upset?
Because apparently, our house had become the destination of choice for both ants and flies.
Not one or the other.
Both.
And I was over it.
For a while, we were dealing with the ants.
You see one.
Then another.
Then suddenly there’s a little ant highway forming somewhere, and you’re standing there wondering where they’re coming from, where they’re going and, more importantly, why they have chosen your house.
Then came the flies.
Again, one fly?
Fine.
Annoying, but manageable.
But when you start constantly seeing another one, swatting at another one or wondering how another one got inside, you begin to take it personally.
Hence my question:
Who did we upset?
Is this some kind of plague?
Did we unknowingly disturb the natural order of things?
Did someone put out a memo that our house was accepting applications?
Because we’re not.
Eventually, I reached my limit.
I opened Amazon and searched for something—anything—that might help.
I found a six-pack of ultrasonic plug-in pest repellers for $33.
At that point, I didn’t research them for three days.
I didn’t create a comparison chart.
I didn’t read 400 reviews.
I saw six for $33 and, more importantly, I saw:
Delivery between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m.
Sold.
Apparently, I had reached the point in my relationship with the flies and ants where regular delivery was no longer acceptable.
I needed reinforcements before sunrise.
The next morning, I woke up, opened the front door and there it was.
A box sitting on the porch.
I brought it inside, opened it and immediately started plugging them in.
No ceremony.
No hesitation.
At that point, I didn’t even know if they worked.
I didn’t care.
Plug.
Little orange light.
You’re on duty.
Next.
Within minutes, my six tiny electronic soldiers had officially been deployed around the house.
The message had been sent.
You don’t live here.
We left the house for a while, and when we came home, I started looking around.
The ants were gone.
All of them.
Not one.
I was almost suspicious.
Well, that was fast.
Had my little electronic army actually worked?
I have no idea.
Maybe.
Maybe the ants simply decided they’d had enough of us.
Either way, I’ll take the win.
The flies, however, apparently did not receive the same memo.
They were still here.
That’s when my husband took matters into his own hands.
He grabbed the Shark vacuum and started going after them.
And I watched.
At some point, I realized I wasn’t watching a man vacuuming flies.
I was watching someone wielding a sword.
Except his sword was a Shark.
He’d spot one.
Up came the vacuum.
Whoosh.
Gone.
Another one.
Whoosh.
Gone.
It became a full-fledged operation.
Between my six ultrasonic devices and my husband wielding a Shark like some kind of fly-fighting warrior, I thought we might finally be getting the situation under control.
Then things got weird.
The next morning, there were eight flies between the kitchen and living room.
But they weren’t really flying around.
Some were sitting near the light fixtures.
A couple were grouped together on a door frame.
And when Rob came after them with his Shark sword, some barely seemed interested in escaping.
We started wondering:
Did something hatch?
Then we left the house again.
When we came home, there were about ten flies around two windows.
And another fifteen to twenty around another.
Now we had gone from annoying to:
What in the world is happening in our house?
I closed the windows.
Maybe they were getting through the screens.
Maybe there was a gap somewhere around the frames.
We didn’t know.
Rob went back to work with the vacuum.
And then we found another clue.
For a while, we’d noticed these little brown capsule-looking things scattered around the kitchen.
Rob pulled out the garbage drawer and found several more underneath it.
That’s when our theory changed.
Maybe the flies weren’t coming into the house.
Maybe they were trying to get out.
Those little brown capsules appeared to be fly pupae or the cases left behind after adult flies emerged.
Suddenly, the flies sitting around our windows made a lot more sense.
They may not have been getting in through the windows at all.
They may have been heading toward the light after emerging somewhere inside.
We still don’t know exactly what started the whole thing.
Something may have gotten underneath or behind the garbage area.
There may have been some kind of organic material we never saw.
Whatever happened, we apparently had our own little fly nursery operating somewhere without our permission.
Wonderful.
So we kept doing what we’d been doing.
The repellers stayed plugged in.
The windows stayed closed.
We cleaned.
We searched.
We picked up the little brown cases when we found them.
And Rob continued his new career as a Shark-wielding fly hunter.
Thankfully, the numbers finally started dropping.
After the day we found twenty-five or more around the windows, I found about six around the light fixtures that night.
The next morning?
Maybe three.
Then today, we left the house again.
When we came home, we looked around.
Nothing.
No flies around the windows.
None around the lights.
Nothing flying around the kitchen or living room.
For the first time in days, there were no flies.
Then my husband opened the windows.
A little while later, there were about four.
At this point, I wasn’t waiting for the man with the Shark.
I grabbed the fly swatter.
Apparently, after several days of watching my husband wage war with a vacuum cleaner, I was ready to enter the battle myself.
One by one, I got them.
And as I sit here writing this?
I don’t see a single fly.
I’m almost afraid to say that too loudly.
I don’t know whether those last four were already hanging around the windows, became active when we opened them or somehow came in from outside.
And honestly?
At this point, I don’t care.
They’re gone.
Hopefully, we’ve interrupted whatever cycle was happening and we’ve reached the end of our unexpected household infestation.
But this entire experience has reminded me how quickly a relatively small annoyance can become the center of your attention.
First it was:
There are ants.
Then:
Why are there so many flies?
Then:
Why aren’t the flies moving?
Then:
Did something hatch?
Then:
Why are we examining mysterious brown capsules underneath our garbage drawer?
And finally:
Where’s the fly swatter?
Life gets weird sometimes.
And sometimes you don’t get a clean explanation.
You just keep responding to whatever appears next.
You try something.
You pay attention.
You gather more information.
You change your theory.
You try something else.
And eventually, hopefully, you find your way through it.
Maybe that’s the actual lesson buried underneath all of this.
We don’t always have to know exactly what’s happening before we begin doing something about it.
Sometimes we work with the information we have.
And when we get new information?
We adjust.
Of course, I’m still not ruling out my original theory.
Because after ants, flies, mysterious pupae, six ultrasonic pest repellers, my husband wielding a Shark vacuum like a sword and me finishing off the stragglers with a fly swatter, I think it’s still a perfectly reasonable question:
Who did we upset?
A Few Questions to Consider:
Have you ever had one small annoyance multiply until it became a much bigger ordeal?
Have you ever been convinced you knew what was happening, only to discover new information that changed your theory?
How well do you adjust when the answer turns out to be different from what you expected?
And what’s something you’ve purchased out of pure frustration?
Because apparently, for me, the answer is:
Six ultrasonic pest repellers with delivery between 3:00 and 6:00 a.m.
Theresa
Hello from Theresa
Flexible Being
Empowering Your Journey to Healing, Clarity, and Self-Discovery.
Concrete solutions. Flexible guidance.
When you’re ready, reach out—I’d love to continue the conversation.
Email: theresa@flexiblebeing.com
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Theresa Martinez-Shapiro
Theresa Martinez-Shapiro is the founder of Flexible Being, a Reiki Master, Certified Oracle Guide, intuitive mentor, and writer based in Stockton, California. Through Musings of a Flexible Being, she explores healing, mindfulness, relationships, intuition, and personal growth with a grounded yet spiritual approach.
