“a fly not on the wall”

This fly was on the ceiling, hanging up side down, how is that possible. Defying gravity, as if it did not exist. She was small but looked twice as big , because of her shadow, I had to stir for a while to see that.

I hate flies, but they like me, I always leave the door open, or at least not shut, this way the dog can get out and back in by herself, and since the dog found this out, it became a sport, out, back in again, out again, may be to see if the neighbour dog have stolen her bone. She leaves her bones on a dog blanket, under a canopy, the big dog from next door have his own pile of bones on the other side, a nice collection.

I figured out why the fly is on the ceiling and not on the wall. That is why I am writing this. Do you think I would write about a fly if it was just on the wall ? I have a fly swatter, always close and ready for a kill. But this leave a spot sometimes, and I am not always at home to swat them, so I got some fly strips, the ones in a roll that you pull out, always getting some sticky stuff on your fingers, and they look really bad when full of large black flies.

The fly is on the ceiling because that is the warmest place in my cabin, cabin sounds better than that old 5th. wheel. I do not want it warm inside, I rather put on my favorite wool cardigan, a real Devold, for the connoisseurs of wool clothing. Anyway, where am I.

Yes the fly is on the ceiling, the warmest spot in my cabin. Sitting still. Same spot, seldom mowing. A few days ago I hung up a new fly trap, next to my reading lamp, figured she would be stuck helpless on there pretty quick. But no, still on her favorite spot.

Got back after a trip to town, and she was still there. I look up once in a while, the dog is sleeping, and she is my only company. Irritating, unwelcome company.  May be she likes my company. Hard to understand these flies.

Suddenly, actually not, but more than eventually, the only two words I could describe this motion with, the fly started crawling around, still up side down on the ceiling. I had just burned some toast, she must have liked the smoke and the smell.  The Portuguese Buns were too wide for the toaster, even after I sliced the in half. I never heard of Portuguese buns before, but a deli had them, and they looked good. Actually sourdough white buns, and now stale after a few days. Therefore the toasting. Next time I will try to flatten them with my hands before I put the halves in the toaster, to see if I can toast them with less smoke.

Anyway, the fly liked the smoke, and became quite active, and then I saw the other reason, another fly, same size and type, circling around, never closer than small dogs nose, but still too close for comfort for me. I do not want a fertile fly laying eggs inside my domain.

Next time I get up from my seat I will grab the fly swatter and use it the way it was ment to be used.

And no, I do not suffer from cabin fewer, and I am not drunk, nor stir crazy, but after two days in the big city celebrating with family and friends, it is nice to be back in the bush.

I just don’t have anything better to do.  I love this cabin life.

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