A section from my writing on summers at the lake:
The screens in the kitchen kept out fewer insects then they allowed in. Drawn by the constant yellow lights over the sink and oven, they would enter through the tears in the mesh. Behind the faucet, I’d find them in the morning stuck in the dish soap scum and dusty cigarette ash. They stuck worst of all around the oven’s range, in the tacky splatters of olive oil from dinner the night before. I found mostly long sand-flies with papery, easily broken wings. If I sprayed the counter with Windex and let it soak in, their little bodies were easily wiped away. There were some places that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wipe clean. At night when Daddy cooked, the little brown sand-flies would dance up into the light over the oven. I like to think they died quickly as they got trapped in the grease that lined the insides of the yellow smoke hood.