Just remember you asked me to tell you. No complaints if you are scarred by the image this story conjures up.
Way back when my oldest daughter was about 12 I made her lunches for school.
Each day she would ask for the same thing: a sandwich.
Now, my sandwiches were works of art, or so my husband tells me… since I also made his lunch for work as well.
The sandwiches were made to the exact liking of the person receiving it.
My daughter’s was two different types of meat, lettuce, cheese, and a little butter.
Each one was carefully crafted to ensure that it would not get soggy before lunch.
Every day I would get up early and make these sandwiches.
Around the middle/end of February my husband and I started noticing some fruit flies in the kitchen.
At first we didn’t think much of it figuring they were just drawn to the bananas on the counter since it was winter.
But each day they got a bit worse and so I finally gave up trying to keep bananas.
I thought that would stop them… it didn’t. We would still find them flying around.
I went online and found instructions to create a fruit fly trap.
I placed the trap in the kitchen expecting to catch what I assumed was a few stragglers and headed to bed.
The next morning I checked the trap… there were no less than 20
I threw the contents of the trap outside and created another one before heading out to work.
I fully expected that I would find the trap empty when I got home… there were at least another 20
At this point I knew we had a problem.
I had cleaned the kitchen top to bottom when the fruit flies first started coming around so I knew they couldn’t be coming from there.
The rest of the house was pretty clean. Maybe not spotless, but certainly not the kind of nastiness that would bring about this kind of infestation of fruit flies.
I started from the basement and worked my way up. I checked under every couch and table. Every nook and cranny. Trying desperately to locate the cause of the problem.
When I got upstairs to the kids rooms I glanced around… everything looked okay.
I typically don’t go invading their rooms but given all the problems I decided that I couldn’t leave any stone unturned so in I went.
The first room belonged to my stepson. It was pretty tidy.
I checked in the closet and under the bed… nothing amiss.
I made my way to my daughter’s room.
At first glance it looked okay. She’s not the tidiest, and there were a few piles of clothes on the floor but nothing extreme.
I stepped inside.
Nothing jumped out at me.
I kicked her clothes around. Nothing
I walked over toward her bed… and I spotted a fruit fly.
Weird.
I bent down and looked under the bed.
There was a garbage bag stuffed under there so I pulled it out.
A few fruit flies followed it out.
The bag was tied shut and to this day I don’t know what I was thinking but I decided to open it…
BOOM!
It was like someone set off a fruit fly bomb.
In seconds the room was filled with them
I stood there for a minute in shock.
Completely dumbfounded.
Then slowly I looked down at the garbage bag in my hand.
I bet you can guess what I found inside…
Sandwiches.
The whole thing was full of them.
The. Entire. Bag.
I removed the offending bag from the house and returned to the room where I eventually found two more bags full of them: one in the closet and one behind her desk.
Apparently, she didn’t really like sandwiches after all.
She had not eaten a single one.
Over 100 days worth of sandwiches all stored in her bedroom.
A veritable fruit fly paradise
It took us weeks to get them all out of the house.
Eventually I did calm down enough to have a rational conversation with my daughter:
“Why didn’t you just tell me you don’t like sandwiches”?
“I didn’t want you to get mad”.
“Why would I get mad? I don’t like sandwiches, I certainly wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Why didn’t you just throw them out at school?”
“The school has a no garbage policy. We have to bring it all home.”
“Okay. You realize you walk by more than one garbage can on your way to and from school. Why didn’t you just throw them out there?”
Criminal mastermind she is not.
hand wash only! 
So maybe I've been looking at it wrong all these years.
You're the only person I know who gets sore at the parks when not
Uh.... ah.... um.... 
