Why the Small Stuff Keeps Stealing Your Joy (and How to Stop It) 

Y'all, I have officially entered my Egyptian plague era. Between the summer heat and the freshly fertilized field behind us, our house has become Fly Central. I'm not talking about the occasional buzzer that sneaks in when someone leaves the door open too long. I'm talking about dozens, maybe more. Scores of flies, staging what I can only assume is an aerial invasion with zero regard for personal space or human dignity.

Last night, as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep, I stared up at my white ceiling, and it looked exactly like the night sky in reverse, with black dots scattered across a pale backdrop instead of white stars twinkling in the dark. Except stars are peaceful. These little dots buzzed, dive-bombed my face, and had the nerve to land on my poor dog Tess while she was just trying to nap. There is no escaping them. None. I've swatted, sprayed, and vacuumed, and still they persist, multiplying like there's no tomorrow.