I live with a cat, which is the next closest thing to living alone. I think living without regular human interaction has made me a little goofy. For one thing, I have developed something of a friendly relationship with some flies in my house.
Actually, I have grown fond of
the flies.
They are not house flies. These are super-tiny fellas. A dozen of these flies could carve out a
grain of rice to make a dugout canoe and then all comfortably fit inside the
canoe on a float trip down the Smith River.
A limited population of the
flies has been living (and breeding) in my house for at least five years now. They are here winter and summer. I might see one every two or three days.
In the last year or so, I have
started talking to the mini-flies. “How
is it going, buddy?” I might ask when one hovers near my morning coffee. “How is the fam?”
The little flies do a lot of
hovering.
They also seem to be attracted
to my computer. “What do you guys eat?”
I asked one the other day when it landed near the “delete” button on my
computer keyboard.
I didn’t expect an answer and I
never got one.
Thing is, it’s nice to have a fly
to talk to, even if I do all the talking.
— Mitchell Hegman
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