Bittersweet I-Told-You-So

I started it. I'll admit it.
I have not cleaned my oven in a really, really long time. I have some serious carcinogens baking in the bottom. Most of the time, 350-400 doesn't make much of a difference, but tonight I was baking pizza, and I had to heat the oven to 500.
Yup. 500. The boiled over mess on the bottom of the oven that had resisted prior baking events was no match for the heat, and I did manage to fill my house with a really cool smoky haze.

As I was trying to battle the smoke with the small window off to the side of the kitchen, my husband came in and opened our sliding door. It would have been a fantastic idea, IF we had a screen door. I told him to shut the door, because we already have a nice little family of flies in our house. He mumbled and grumbled about me being cranky (note: see earlier post about starving monkeys), and proceeded to get our big fan to blow the smoke out of the house.

I puttered around, cleaning stuff up, biting my tongue when I heard my sweet husband say, "Wow. You were right. Where are all these flies coming from?" I'd like to say that the, "You were right," was music to my ears, but I knew I was right. I didn't need to hear him admit it.

When I walked into our family room and saw about 20 flies clustered on the ceiling then headed back into the kitchen to see another larger army fluttering around, I was completely disgusted.

I may have said a few unpleasant things...

And as my knight in shining armor dropped his dishes in the sink, and headed out the door to go hang with his buddies, our discourse went something like this:

Him: Once you get the kitchen cleaned up, you'll be able to deal with it better.
Me: Right.
Him: You could run to the store and get a fly strip or a fly swatter.
Me: Wow. Thanks for the advice. Any other genius suggestions?
Him (muttering): I'm glad I'm leaving tonight. You're cranky.
Me (clear as a bell): You know what, I'm actually glad you're leaving, too.

I have spent the last two hours quarantining our child in a room with ventilation. Spraying the ceilings and any random surface a fly could cling to with some random bug killer I found under the sink. Vacuuming up little carcasses and chasing down not-yet-dead but fairly dopey flies. And wiping down all surfaces that might have been coated with spray. There are still a few rogue pests fluttering around, but the masses are gone. And, our kitchen and family room are cleaner than they've been in a while.

It's a bittersweet I-told-you-so moment. I feel very, very proud of myself for dealing with it. But I would have much rather been wrong and spent the evening laying on the couch.