Buggin' Out

I spent most of yesterday cleaning my house. Everything from scrubbing my floors to sanitising my bathrooms to washing my windows to mowing my lawn. After I was done, I was relaxing on my couch for a few minutes, when I heard a faint buzzing sound. Then I felt it--a fly on my arm. Then one on my brow. Then one on my lip. ("Excuse me, Mr. Fly, but weren't you just feasting on the dog poop in my neighbour's yard?") It seems all the opening of doors and windows while cleaning invited them all in. Now, I don't really like to kill bugs, and I thought about trying to shoo them outside, but that would only let in more. So I went about trying to swat at them individually, which isn't easy. They're certainly evasive little boogers.
People have told me flies get bad around here in the summer, but I hadn't noticed it until this week. This morning at Church, it was hard to tell who was swatting at flies and who was feeling the Holy Spirit. I'm wondering if there's an unrepentant pharoah nearby. If a bunch of frogs turn up next week, my suspicions will be validated.