Investigating New Territory Through The World of Writing
There are an unusual amount of black flies this spring in northern Michigan. My dreamy ideal first day at the beach experience turned into a series of slaps on my legs and arms as I tried to relax and enjoy the sun and sound of the lake. My book never made it out of the beach bag. The sunscreen I applied even seemed to attract the little buggers. And they were biting. My husband used the opportunity to read aloud from his phone, citing the recent frustrations of campers on Mackinac Island and hikers in Canada. After about a half hour of slapping and trying to relax with one eye open, the flies won and I left. I’m so neurotic about killing biting insects I have been known to pull over my car until I kill a rogue stowaway mosquito. So last night while brushing my teeth in the bathroom I heard that high pitched buzzing sound sweep past my head. My body tensed, the toothbrush froze in mid stroke, and my eyes scanned the room for a weapon. Thankfully, a perfectly sized paperback book had been abandoned on the floor next to the toilet. Toothbrush, still in my mouth, I hustled in my jammies over to the door and slammed it shut imprisoning myself with the fly. Revenge had to be taken on the poor insect whose species had ruined my picture-perfect first visit to the beach. The toothbrush was discarded and the game began. There didn’t seem to be any clear flight plan at first. The creature bounced off of mirrors and walls. I patiently tracked it as it contrasted against the cream colored bead board that covered the walls and ceiling. When it rested, I attacked. My heart pounded in my throat. The book hit the wall WACK after WACK after WACK with no results. So I sat to observe for several minutes for some kind of pattern. Since the ceiling in the bathroom goes up to a peak about 12 feet tall, the fly was able to escape my reach. I thought I had it cornered when it snuck underneath the linoleum when the wall met the floor, but it narrowly escaped. It even hid from me behind a pipe. Completely frustrated, I groaned. Just then, my husband came in discovering me in all my insect angst. My shoulders slumped. My eyebrows narrowed. Defeated, I whined about my six legged, 1 and 1/2 centimeter opponent. He grabbed the first thing he saw off the floor, swung into the fly mid flight during one of its regular fly bys, knocked it unconscious, and mushed it all under ten seconds. I threw the book in the air and walked out of the bathroom feeling like a complete idiot.