The Fruit Fly Saga

Picture this: I have just arrived back in my room after an hour-delayed train, a pit stop at UH, and a trip to see Jenny. I am, in other words, very ready for bed. Especially as I have to get up at 6:30 am tomorrow to get to work. Alas, I cannot go to bed as I walk into my room, take my top off and notice that my room has been occupied as I've been away. By a COLONY of fruit flies. I explain it best here:

I have never had to encounter fruit flys before personally, and I have no idea how to dispose of them. I chose to frantically wave my hand-held hoover at them, wearing a skirt bought from a shop merely because I wanted to go in and have a chat with the owner of the shop (who will be my future husband), and looking like an unhinged foreign grandmother.

Also, weirdly, as I opened my laptop to air my grievances, I saw a very squished cigarette that has been stored in my laptop for ages. It has turned into a cuboid. Even weirder, I'm not entirely sure that it was me who left it there-- it has a regular filter in it. And, as anyone who has asked me for a blem to which I have to look sadly at them and explain that I only smoke menthol knows, this would be significantly out of character for me.