Once upon a July morning, as I brushed my teeth, yawning,
Trying not to spill water over my carpetted bathroom floor,
While I brushed nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" ‘Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Turns out the visitor was Chris from the opposite room, and she was wearing a very concerned expression. Quoth the housemate, "Maggots!"
It was true. Despite being regularly changed, our black bin bag had attracted some unwelcome visitors: maggots indeed. Chris had discovered them while cleaning up after breakfast and had tried unsuccessfully to dispose of them. We used to have a dustpan and brush in the house but it must have belonged to her predecessor because it recently vanished. Thus was I called upon to help out.
Wielding a pair of short, wooden, Thai-style chopsticks, I collected the maggots one by one and dropped them into the cereal box Chris had appropriated for the purpose. We then threw this out and mopped the floor.
Top priority this evening, then, is to purchase some kind of disinfectant – assuming one exists that is safe to use in the kitchen – and any new tools or chemicals we’ve run out of.