If you're like me, projects around the house seem to take on a life of their own. I headed outside at 10:00 this morning, ready to scrape decrepit, unsightly paint from the ceiling of my huge wraparound front porch. I thought an hour, maybe two for the job. Then I could come back inside and work on my newest romance novel manuscript, which I've been looking forward to. But Five hours later, I'm questioning the sanity of this particular job. I mean, the paint ceiling-peelings in an icky shade of green (who paints a porch ceiling green anyway?) seemed to mutate and propagate the more I scraped.
While I scraped, flicked, and basically made a big mess, a stupid horsefly the size of an eagle, zipped and buzzed around my head. I hate those things! Having been bitten by them before, I don't recommend the experience. It buzzed my head. I swatted at it with my hand. It buzzed my left ear. I tried to smack it with a broom. Thankfully, I didn't hit my ear. That would have given the horsefly a good laugh, I'm sure. But all I touched was air, which probably looked kind of insane to my neighbor who happened to be looking in my direction right about then.
It flew around, staying just far enough away so I couldn't hit it. But then the stupid bug had the audacity to land on the back of my leg. My leg! That fly got what was coming to him. I smacked my calf, which of course hurt me, but I also stunned him, it, or whatever. The fly lay groaning on the cement floor of the porch. It gasped, begged, and made its last will and testament. With no second thought, I swished its dying body into the mulch under the bushes surrounding the porch. Mission accomplished.
Later, I looked out our backroom window to watch our hummingbirds at the feeder. I looked closer. That's no hummingbird. It's a horsefly! It couldn't be the same one, could it? It landed on the outside of the screen I happened to be looking through. I honestly think it was mocking me. Giving me the wing, if you will. When I head back out to the porch tomorrow to begin re-painting it, I'm sure that resurrected fly will be waiting. Hmmm. Maybe my husband would like to paint the porch.
Writing is Imagination in Flight
About Me
- Ruth J. Hartman
- Ruth J. Hartman spends her days herding cats, and her nights spinning mysterious romantic tales that make you smile and laugh out loud - or so she's been told my readers! She, her husband Garry, and their two cats, love to spend time curled up in their recliners watching old Cary Grant movies. Well, the cats, Roxy and Remmie, sit in the people's recliners. Not that the cats couldn't get their own furniture. They just choose to shed on someone else's. You know how selfish those little furry creatures can be.
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