I swatted a fly with a rolled up magazine today. As I shrunk back in horror, my eyes grew big with trepidation. I immediately wanted to take back my fatal swat. There he was, smooshed all over my friend's window (sorry Natalia). It all happened so fast. I felt awful. I still feel awful. I guess this was my first fly kill in my life, or the first one I paid attention to.
I immediately thought about my fancy green fly swatter I have in my house, the one with the bright pink flower. Why make a pretty fly swatter? Is it to distract you from the smeared bug guts all over your counter, window, or wall?
I know this was a pointless post, but I was extremely disturbed by this incident today. So now, here I sit doing research on the computer with the remnants of my murder still smeared across the window (again, Sorry Natalia). His poor fly brother is still buzzing around annoying me. Don't worry little fly, I'm going to suffer through it. I couldn't stand the guilt of another fly soul on my hands.
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