We have been plagued with flies this summer. It was probably due to the endless rains we've had all spring. Whenever we open the door to the house, we have to almost sneak in so that no flies feel invited. But inevitably, 2 or 3 manage to make themselves at home each time the door is slightly cracked.
Bennett keeps asking me, "Mom, why did God make flies? What is their purpose?" Good questions. I have no clue! Chuck seems to think that their only purpose is as food for other creatures. I guess that answer is better than, "just to annoy us and remind us that life isn't all about us."
Anyways, we seem to be constantly shooing away flys, at the dinner table, sitting on the couch reading, laying in bed, while brushing our teeth. They are very non-discriminating. They don't care who they bother, as long as they bother someone. My favorite is the "fly by". This is a different breed of fly altogether. They are brazen, shameless, purposefully trying to irritate the human inhabitants of the house. They get their little wings humming as fast as possible and then calculate how close they can get to your ears, eyes and nose before being swatted. I think they do this as 'dares' from other flies.
So, the other night I'm getting ready for bed and brushing my teeth. There are no less than 3 flies as my companions with me in the bathroom. My irritability factor is rising exponentially. I ask Chuck if he could "PLEASE DO SOMETHING!" His solution? He grabs the closest hand towel and starts attempting to pop them. He's whipping everything in sight. He pops the mirror and anything in the path of the towel becomes a casualty. But it's worth it for the small piece of mind that comes with knowing that there will be no more 'fly by's'.
In order to getting out of the 'whipping zone' I perch myself upon the bed where I have a perfect view of Chuck in action. There is my protector, armed with a towel, speedy eyes, an acute sense of hearing and those strong muscular arms ready to whip any flying, annoying, creature who dares enter the solitude of our bathroom. Talk about being territorial.
How can one describe the sense of pride that wells up in your chest your husband yells, "YES! I got him - he's dead, or at least injured - now I just need to find him." Ah, all my fears seem to fade away. Love bubbles up in my heart as I watch him spin around the bathroom like a madman whipping at apparently nothing, but knowing he's doing it for me. He doesn't care about looking foolish - he's in 'hunter mode'. He will not rest until every last fly is accounted for and his dear beloved (that's me) can sleep peacefully. At one point, he even trapped one of the trespassers in the water closet (the polite name for the toilet area). He shut the door and all I heard was the flailing about of arms, the towel repeatedly hitting the walls and sounds of the hunt such as, "AHA - now I've gottcha ". It only took 15 minutes of bravery and a keen sense of knowing the every movement of his enemy before we could go to bed knowing that there were no unwanted guests in the house.
Then Chuck came up with a brilliant idea. This might just be a new family business for us. We could advertise ourselves as the "Fly Hunters" and accompany people at their family reunions, church picnics, company bar-b-q's, you know - any large celebration that involves alot of people and a cookout. That invariably draws the flies. Then there we would be - wildly thrashing about, wielding hand towels to pop the flies with. We may look like fools, the people may accidently get hit once in a while. But what a peace of mind we would bring to your party. You would know that as long as we're there, you need not worry about the flies. Kind of reminds me of "Ghostbusters", huh?! Think about it - I think there's definitely a market for it!
