When we decided to move here to the desert, I was excited in part because of the lack of mosquitoes. After living in Houston, the capital of MosquitoLand, I was relieved to get away from those pesky flying nucsances. At first, all was well in the land of dry.
Until the heat came.
And the flies.
OH, my, the flies!
We call them poop flies. You know, houseflies, the ones that begin and end in the piles of dog poop in the backyard? (Which I pick up immediately after Belly, um, makes her deposits.)
No, they don't bite, and for that I am grateful, because we are OVER RUN.
Bugs.
I.
HATE.
Bugs.
