I like my house. It’s more
than just a roof over my head. It’s the place I retreat to at the end of the
working day, my haven. The bag is dumped on the floor, the kettle switched on,
and I feel embraced by the warmth of the sun pouring in the windows. I feel
cocooned, safe and at peace with the world.
In the last few days
however, this peaceful existence has been undermined. I’ve had to share my
space, not with a friendly visitor, but with at least two dozen unwelcome
invaders. I rarely eat meat, so I know it wasn’t my cooking that attracted
them. I also know my fortress is virtually impenetrable, but there they were,
two flies zooming around the lounge room the other night. Not blowflies, just
normal house flies, which I thought was strange given the cold temperatures
outside. Had they snuck in for extra warmth?
Dispatched them forthwith,
but when I came home from work the next day there were several on the dining
room and kitchen windows basking in the sun, one in the bathroom, another in
the bedroom, then as the sun made its way around to the lounge room even more
appeared.
My detective skills
concluded it had to be an inside job. Louie the Fly obviously had something to
do with it, but it was Lou Lou who had caused this current predicament.
Somewhere in the past few months some dear little female bearing her bacteria
laden maggot producing progeny had alighted somewhere in the house, hiding her
collection of eggs or whatever flies do to propagate the species. I don’t know
what the gestation period of house flies is, but whatever was lurking unseen
tucked away somewhere nice and warm and cosy had now borne fruit, and I have a
fly graveyard scattered all over the house as grisly evidence.
Thought I’d seen the last of
them yesterday, but there in the bathroom this morning were two more, who
didn’t last long, and another two in the dining room when I came home, so I’m
not heading round with the vacuum cleaner until I’m convinced the invasion and
subsequent carnage is over. At least I’m thankful they all didn’t hatch at
once. Twenty-odd maggot boxes in one hit circling overhead and dive-bombing would’ve
been a bit much.
