The Fly

For the past three days I have had a fly the size of a small Volkswagen buzzing about my house.  The fly was so big that the mutt, not used to taking on anything of that size, would growl at it.  I thought I had left the window open long enough for it to fly away to its huge fly mansion up in the West Hills or into some sinister, but much loved only for this purpose, spider web.  But just as I started to feel comfortable, I found out how oh so wrong I was.  

Yesterday I came downstairs to the mutt who was sitting in front of the living room window ledge, staring intently at this mutant insect who's size is, I'm sure a direct result of the global warming that I caused by driving into work instead of taking the MAX three times last week.  The mutt was going ballistic, barking as if this devil swamp creature was going to cart both of us off to someplace that doesn't have cookies or doggy daycare.

So last night I did what any rational person who is terrified of an insect the size of a small country would do.  I slept with my door shut and stuffed a towel at the bottom just to make sure that the rogue fly or any of its offspring couldn't get in.  So what if I died due to lack of oxygen, I'd rather that than be suffocated between two fingery, pokey, hairy claw like talons--have you SEEN how gross fly legs are?  The mutt and I awoke somewhat suspiciously this morning.  When we went downstairs, there was silence.  

I was relieved for about 3 seconds.  Because just when I thought nothing could freak me out more than a fly the size of North & South America combined, I realized that I closed all of my windows last night.  And if my Google search of fly life spans is correct, I now have a dead fly carcass to come across at some point.  And I can guarantee it will happen juuuuust as I'm starting to get comfortable.