Our fly

We have a fly in the house this fall. She makes it feel so homey. Our cats have something to keep them occupied. It's a win win situation.

Now don't fret. She landed in a sink full of antibacterial dish soap and spent the next three hours cleaning and drying on the window sill so we're quite safe from typhoid, cholera, dysentery, salmonella, anthrax, and tuberculosis. And considering all the house flies we grew up with, we must be immune to these beastly ills anyhow.

My wife was a little upset, but then anyone who tries to tell you to wash white stuff separately in the laundry holds no great influence over our dispositions here anyway. She grew up in a Ukrainian foster home and her mom was in the hospital for a while so her dad made soup one day. Well, this 'such a soup' turned out a little on the salty side and was eventually fed to the neighbours dog after numerous taste tests by all parties involved. I have a feeling this incident slightly jaundiced her predilection towards men's domestic endeavours.

This fly though is making herself quite at home. We think she's a she but we won't know for sure unless she gets a boy friend in for a visit which she seems to be trying to do, flirting on the window screens all the time. And we'd know if it was her on the top or on the bottom by her seductive little eyes. She has the 'look'. We were going to colour her hair just to be sure but my wife was concerned she may be allergic to the florescent paint.

It makes for a real relaxing evening. A good book. Some popcorn. And a friendly little fly on the cupboard door. Life is good.