morbidly stupid.

I mean it literally. These flies in my office - I don't know how they keep getting in here. I close my peanut butter jar, tighten the lid on the honey, and wrap up the bread. The flies, they sit at the window (pause, another kill). We learn as children, that generally, killing a fly takes patience, concentration, silence, and a steady hand. You get one shot at it. If you miss, resign yourself to be annoyed by the buzzing for another five minutes as the fly circles the ceiling and rests itself on the underside of an inconspicuous houseplant (we have plants?).
These flies are different. They are morbidly stupid. They sit on the window sill, lazily. I hear it behind me, roll up an old calendar of New Mexico's noxious weeds, and start jabbing. I've found that if I just tap or poke near the fly, it will move so that I can more easily smash it. Usually, in my coffee-jittered state, I miss the first time. No matter, the fly hovers, then settles immediately back in the same place. I lightly whack again (it doesn't take much for these, and I don't want to mess my window). Miss. Hover. Land. whack. Success. Add it to the pile by the baseboard, I'll vacuum on Friday.
Though these flies make easy work for me, I do sometimes ponder why they became so morbidly stupid. I used to think the cold glass induced lethargy, but the flies are just as morbidly stupid in the summer. I instead choose to believe they're incessantly inbreeding; that my office house is the creator of some mutated morbidly stupid fly species. While eerie, it's better than the alternatives - toxic paint or carbon monoxide causing brain damage in the pinpoint of a fly brain. Here's to hoping my gray matter stays sharp. cheers, whack.

As Above...

so compulsive procrastination. general lingering, bracingly patient, agitated anxiety. good. now that i've adequately defined myself i'll get back to work.