All Things Anne

Well, no, I don’t, but if I did, I’d swear flies can multiply anywhere, and not just in the manure pile. We don’t have a screen for the front door, so when it’s dinner time it’s fly-hunting season, and everyone has limitless tags. The ones who want to hunt flies grab fly swatters–there’s only two so it’s first-come-first-serve, and everyone else gets hand towels. About ten minutes later, it’s deadly quiet and all the flies are gone. I start putting dinner on the table, then…what? A fly?
“Eric! There’s one on the fridge!!”
Smack, smack.
“Aaah! Missed him!”
“There, on the wall!”
Smack, smack.
“Haha! Got him!”
Call Dad in. He can’t abide flies by his food. We sit down, give thanks, and start eating.
Bzzz, bzzz.
Ugh. Another fly.
“Are all the doors and windows shut?” Mom will ask.
“Yeah,” everyone says.

Like I said, they breed anywhere.