Note to Self: They Are Called Samaras and I Hate Them

Every spring, I am shocked by the amount of maple tree helicopter whiriligig things that accumulate in my backyard and on my porch and, consequently, in my home-- either I track them in on my shoes or they slip in because we keep the sliding glass door open most of the time (we have a magnetic screen, which keeps the bugs out and allows the dog free reign of the porch and yard) and every year I am also shocked that there is a technical name for these whirligig helicopter thingies: samaras-- but I guess they eventually disappear-- where the fuck do they go?-- and I eventually forget the name for them . . . until spring inevitably returns.