The Whirl of Winter Flies

I was settled in bed the other night, all set to read another chapter in Maeve Binchy’s “The Lilac Bus” when I heard the whirl of a winter fly. You know what I mean. As the weather warms, those half-dead flies hidden throughout the house start to surface. The one trying my patience was spinning around on its back on the ledge beneath my bedroom window. I threw off the covers, grabbed a Puffs, and put the creature out of its misery.

As I returned to my book, it wasn’t long before another fly decided to interrupt my reading. This fly, I’ll call him George, was alert enough to know better than to land on his back. He was walking around the perimeter of the lamp above my head. Once again, I put down my book, reached for a tissue, and attempted to terminate the fellow, but George outsmarted me.

He flew to the ceiling light and took up lodging in the glass shade. Well, I thought, I might as well leave him alone. I’m not going to stand on the bed, hit my head on the low ceiling, and most likely break the shade as I reach for George. He wasn’t making any noise so I found my place and continued reading.

Naturally, I fell asleep. When I was a kid, I used to marvel that Gram always fell asleep while reading. The book or magazine she was enjoying ended up covering her face, and I wondered why she didn’t awaken. Now I understand. There’s something about growing old and falling asleep while reading that puts us in a deep trance. It takes more than a book across our nose to awaken us. It takes the humming of a fly.

George had left the safety of his hiding place and decided to walk on my glasses, a fatal mistake on his part. With great care and a minimum amount of movement, I caught him in my hand. If you’ve ever held a fly you know it’s not a pleasant sensation. I quickly deposited him in a tissue and washed my hands.

By this time sleep had left me, as had my interest in Maeve’s story. I put some crackers in a bowl and turned on Netflix. It was 11:30 p.m. I found a rather dull documentary and munched on Spicy Buffalo Wheat Thins until I gave myself heartburn. Then I took a Prilosec and turned off the television. As soon as my bedroom was dark and quiet and I was ready for sleep, I heard the whirl of another winter fly attempting to upright itself.

I knew the night was going to be a long and sleepless one.