THE HANDSOME PANDEMIC FLY, LITERALLY
It’s important to have a companion from time to time, in this period of isolation. We chat together —well I chat and he listens—as I putter about the kitchen wiping the counters down with the sponge I’ve carefully sprayed with bleach. It’s nothing personal, the bleach - sort of like throwing the dice. I hope it won’t be harmful to him, because we’ve established a way of communicating, he and I. On the other hand, if it does harm him, he probably should have been more careful about whose kitchen door he flew in through. I casually toss an instruction over my shoulder as I head out the door with the garbage, warning him that the container of Jalepeno dip is not to be touched by him. I am in charge here, regardless of what he thinks. I don’t think they are testing flies for the virus, but I suspect they contribute to it somehow. Who knows, though, really. So, I allow him to stay. The thought of picking up the fly swatter chills me to the bone. To kill this perfectly friendly creature would be difficult.
And he does seem to like me. He’s been flitting about the kitchen for two or three days now. I don’t know what he’s surviving on, and probably that is just how he wants it. No interference from the lady of the house. Sometimes I practice my foreign dialects on him. It’s good to keep those skills polished, even if there’s no outlet for them, and never was. The Voice-over market is flooded with people who’ve been doing it for years. I never really tried, but still, a talent is a talent. It must not be left to dry up and float away on the air. I don’t get a reaction from him so it’s hard to tell which dialects he thinks are best. I don’t know that I would necessarily value the opinion of a fly, but on the other hand, all feedback is valuable.
I noticed some sugar fragments on the tile this morning, just a bit of orange colored dust from a piece of dried mango seasoned with chili in the drying process. I must have been careless when I took it out last night to nibble on. He’s perched near it now, probably waiting till I turn my attention away. But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to challenge him. He actually landed on my hand earlier this morning. That’s rather brazen, rather bold for a fly to whom I have not been properly introduced. I know nothing about his family history or religious views. Still, I enjoyed the outreach.
Sometimes you know, people just disappear from your social circle. I suspect it happens with flies as well. There will be a time when he turns his attention elsewhere, when his cheerful presence is no longer felt here among my dirty dishes and messy kitchen towels. I wonder if I leave the refrigerator door open, if he would go inside to look for new supplies. He won’t find much. I finished the left-over beef stew last night, and I suspect he does not like broccoli florets. And it would make me sad to find him there, stiff from the cold, on top of the yoghurt container.
We are listening to the classical music channel on now. I’ve always favored that selection over the left-over hits from the easy-listening channel. Sometimes I hear a theme I recognize. He rarely comes into the den with me, though occasionally I have noticed him flying persistently around the window above my desk. I suspect he is trying to get my attention. So I ignore him.
I have no idea how he feels about politics, and frankly, it’s a bit of a relief not to have those conversations. You can never tell who you will offend next. I have managed to throw away perfectly good romantic relationships because I dare to express harsh views about – whatever. I won’t list them here. But I’m sure you have had a similar experience somewhere along the way.
So, it is important not to totally isolate during this challenging time. We do what we can. I am grateful there is someone to chat with. And he must feel the value of the relationship as well. I’ve never had a fly stay inside the kitchen for more than just a few hours.
This is a time for the healing of conflicts and a coming together.