One Fly

Our house, our home has a semi-open floorplan. Not as open as we would have liked, but in all things of life we make compromises and in the floorplan of this house, we made a compromise. The way the house is laid out is that the carport door is literally fifteen feet from the back door. The carport door is, like in most American homes, the most used door in the house.

We joke to one another that when the front doorbell rings, there is a stanger outside. Everyone who is not a stranger comes in through the carport. As we've made changes to the yard, we've managed to make our backyard an oasis of sorts. There is a lot of family traffic through the back yard. We entertain there when the weather allows.

Louisiana is host to a variety of insect life, of both the crawling and the flying varieties. There are houseflys in Louisiana and it seems that no matter what we do there is always one fly in this kitchen. As I blog this post there is one fly buzzing about, pestering the crap out of me. I intend to kill the little bastard and yes, I own a fly-swatter. It is on the table next to me as I type.

As I reflect on my life, it seems that the fly has become a metaphor for my personal outlook. Instead of focusing on the fact that I live in a nice house in a Great State in the best country in the world, I sometimes focus on the flys.

Something is always going to pester me, whether actually or metaphorically. I can't ignore the fly, simply because it aggravates me, but I shouldn't let it dictate to my psyche.

There's a moral here somewhere and I'll let someone else figure it out.