No, that’s not a special champagne cocktail. Although a little hair o’ the dog might not be so bad right now, since I was up rather late sipping a cherry liqueur with a funny Polish name that translates roughly to “Grandma’s Splash.” I now have waves of pain pulsing through my cranium which lead me to believe that Grandma likes to hit the sauce hard.
The concoction/contraption above is actually the fruit of a pesky fruit fly problem that’s been plaguing my kitchen all week. And the mosquitoes that have been dive bombing our bed in the middle of the night. Funny how flying bug infestations happen when there’s no AC so you have to leave the windows open, but there are no screens so every creepy-crawly on the block wants to stop in for dinner. I asked my French teacher how real Parisians solve this problem and she looked at me like I was nuts. “Les moustiques?! N’existe pas à Paris.” Mosquitoes! In Paris? Impossible. I then showed her the line of angry, itchy bites down my leg. She looked at me with a straight face and told me I must have fleas.
I’m fairly certain it’s not fleas, since I can see the fruit flies and mosquitoes circling and last time I checked, Husband’s body hair had not yet reached canine levels. So yesterday I decided to get all crafty up in this piece. My bug death trap is sinister yet simple in construction: pour a little vinegar into the bottom of a glass. Roll a piece of paper into a cone, taping it in place. You want a small opening that hovers just above the vinegar. That way the flies, unable to resist the siren call of fruity fermentation, fly down your paper cone of death and either splash to their vinegary end or panic when they can’t find a way back out.
I don’t know if this works for mosquitoes, but I’m hoping they’re dumb enough to fall for it too. In the meantime I will wait for my first victim, wringing my hands and cackling an evil murderous laugh.
Yes, this is what my life has come to people. Fruit fly traps and blogging. But don’t judge – it’s amazing what passes as entertainment when your only other option is the BBC. And so I bring you vocabulary:
Pronunciation: la moosh
Definition: A fly. Also the name for those fake beauty marks Marie Antoinette and her pals used to stick on their faces. As in,
“Can you tell my brian is fried from all that Grandma’s Splash? I’m blogging about mosquitos and les mouches and Marie Antoinette’s fake beauty mark!”