"The notion that such persons are gay of heart and carefree is curiously untrue. They lead, as a matter of fact, an existence of jumpiness and apprehension. They sit on the edge of the chair of Literature. In the house of Life they have the feeling that they have never taken off their overcoats."
- James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Gayle the Conqueror

I got my 2,000 words done today, but I was hoping for much more. I could have done more, too, if I hadn't been derailed by...


Every year, our house is attacked by angry hordes of flies. The first year it happened, I assumed I had left trash that attracted them. Then I wondered if something had died in our walls. There was no smell, but you never know.

One year we went on vacation. I had cleaned the house, taken out all trash, and when we got home -


I officially have no idea why they show up. I am speaking of HORDES, as in mass quantities of the evil black six-legged icky-poop-eaters. They amass around the windows in our kitchen, family room, and living room. Hundreds of them.

Last evening, I came home from working at the ranch and killed flies. I sprayed, swatted, and swept, then started it all again. I worked for over an hour before I stopped to fix dinner.

When I got up the next morning, I sprayed, swatted, and swept more. In between my coffee, I killed flies. In between writing, I killed flies. In between eating, I killed flies.

By mid-morning, I began to notice that the spray didn't always kill them. Sometimes they laid, in a coma-like state, until I swatted one of their friends, and then they'd take off. It was like having zombie flies. I told Marcus that we had zombie flies and the only way to kill them was to wrap them in a paper towel and feel their bodies pop.

"You're morbid, Mom," he said.

By mid-afternoon, I was attuned to every buzzing noise, every slight thunk of a fly body hitting a window. I also began to wonder if I was just imagining things, like a drunk with DTs.

It is now 6:30 p.m. and I am still on the hunt. I am relentless in my pursuit. None will survive. If I let even one live, they will lay eggs and I will have to do this all over again.

Trust me, I shall be victorious. Until next year...

1 comment:

Tameri Etherton said...

Ewwwww! I'm totally get an Amityville Horror vibe here. I hate flies. Despise them.

I wonder why they pick your house to descend upon each year. It must be because you're so sweet.

If you figure out how to get rid of them, let us know! Until then, I'm so sorry you have zombie flies.

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