Sunday, January 28, 2007

If He Were the Size of Jeff Goldblum, I Could Get Him, I Swear

I have other things to post . . . but I think some levity is called for, so . . .

A random post about flies. And how SOMEHOW just ONE always manages to be somewhere in your house. And how you can have a 1,300 square foot house, but wherever you are - the fly is. He's not content to fly around the other 1,295 square feet of unoccupied space. No, no. He wants to be buzzing around your face, crawling on your leg, landing on your hand, always moving just quickly enough that you can't smack him. But the ALMOST smack of him is not a deterrent. He just lands right back on you 12 seconds later.

He comes at you when you least expect it. When you’re at your happiest and most content. Generally, he attacks when you’re finished with work for the day and just sitting quietly by yourself, writing a blog entry or relishing in being able to do nothing and not feel guilty about it. They especially love to annoy you when you're attempting to sleep. Those peaceful little afternoon naps. That's when they move in for the money shots. Directly on your cheek, your forehead, your chin. They get brave and think "Oh! A face! There could be some food crumbs there!" And they buzz in for the kill.

Unfortunately, their blasted multi-faceted eyes serve as an amazing warning system. And instead of turning the Fly into an icky spot that must be removed with copious amounts of soap and water, you end up with a sore cheek and some finger prints because you were SO determined to kill his little annoying butt this time that you put your weight into the hit - not caring that you were going to injure yourself, because it was worth it to see the fly's demise. But the fly, yet again, is the victor. And you’re left with a red cheek, a sore palm and feelings of inadequacy because you couldn’t even kill a tiny fly.

Little bastards.


Walter said...

Invest in a can of "raid," however, other household product aerosol sprays, like lysol, when sprayed on a pesky fly, will hinder it from flying, and makes crushing the "little bastards" so much easier.

Ang said...

The worst is when you are sleeping!!!

Here, the mosquitos are as fast as the flies back home! AARRGGHH!!

meghansdiscontent said...

Walter - Yeah, I mean, I do that. And I smack them with flyswatters,etc. But when I'm laying there trying to sleep - - I'm too tired and lazy to get up and get some Raid, Lysol, etc. I also don't want to spray that crap right where I'm trying to breathe deeply. :)

Ang - Don't I know it! As for the mosquitos, if it's anything like Arkansas, I understand. I think the mosquito is our state bird.

Coyote Mike said...

Hello, darling. Sorry I haven't popped in for so long. Glad you still have some levity.

And do you really want a 6'5" tall fly?

Jason said...

"But the fly, yet again, is the victor."

Yes, but I figure he's only got a few days to live, right? So I usually say, "Enjoy it while you can, buddy boy. The bell tolls for thee."

Well, obviously I don't actually talk to the fly.


This is a great post. A perfect soliloquy on the human/fly relationship.

Johnny said...

I hate flies.

Carl from L.A. said...

Flies are probably *the* most annoying thing in the world, and useless.

I love swatting flies. I can channel all my frustration on them and it's very satisfying when they are smashed to paste by the swatter. Not to mention it's great training of your motor skills and concentration.

That said, I still prefer not to see a single fly in my house, that's why when it's hot, my trash is always covered, windows always closed, and doors are never open for more than a few seconds.

meghansdiscontent said...

Coyote Mike - Hi there. Ummm . . if he were 6'5" I could aim and knock the living daylights out of him and get him out of my house, so yes.

Jason - How zen of you. :) And SURE you don't talk to the fly. Thanks for the compliment.

Johnny - Well said.

Carl - I could agree with that. I leave my windows open, but with screens. I can't deal with flies, but I also can't deal with being cooped up in my own house.