Flies

The flies have been trying to tell me something.

My motivation of late has been nonexistent. Job, house, hygiene... who cares?..they can wait. There are unwatched episodes of "Pawn Star" to be seen. Intersperse mindless streaming with fitful naps, eating of random food, the odd trip to the loo, and you pretty much have my "research" day in a nutshell.
Yup, I'm on the fast track to success.

This self indulgent orgy has most recently been interrupted by the killing of flies. Hoards of flies invaded my house (not one or two that sneak in through a door, but literally dozens and dozens) A special trip to Ace and armed with three fly swatters I became engulfed in fits of pest killing fury.

Every time the fury overtakes me I'm reminded of mom. She hated flies with an intensity that was sometimes humorous to witness. Her focus and determination in pursuit of all things "vermin": mice, flies, feral cats, weeds, was seemingly out of character, and something I teased her about quite regularly. The teasing was not about her hating these things, but the vehemence with which she pursued them.

Anyway, there are now loads of dead flies on the floor below my living room window -the place where, like the little tailor, I can easily kill seven with one blow - and I keep thinking I should learn something from all this.

Like: I'm going to be reminded of mom all the time, in the smallest things. I need to take my garbage out more often. I might have some obsessive qualities like mom. If I keep swatting I'll eventually hit something.

Here is where I report that some deep insight from the blue has come to me from those flies, and that freshly showered I'm out tackling my obligations in a way mom would be proud. But here I lay in my pajamas, (I've actually run out of "Pawn Star" episodes) and am wondering if I could get away with calling in sick tomorrow.

If the universe is trying to tell me something deep via fly infestation... maybe I'll figure it out after I watch this episode of "American Pickers".