Forming Attachments
Two flies have been staying with me for the last three days. They arrived within a couple of hours of each other, but I think that was coincidental rather than intentional. They initially did some exploring, but after satisfying their curiosity, the interest of both turned mainly to the windows. I took this as a sign of their desire to leave, so, also having a desire for them to leave, I did what I could to help them. Flies are stubbornly independent creatures though, and tend not to accept help, and would much rather do things for themselves, regardless of how far beyond them that might be. This pair were typical flies.
When not hanging out on the windows, the flies devoted most of their time to getting on my nerves. Just the usual stuff: Walking round the rims of cups, flying in tight circles round my head, and landing on my arm or forehead when I was trying to have a nap, etc. If only their intuition for knowing exactly when you are at the point of dropping off were matched by their instinct for finding the gap round an open window.
For three days I have put up with this, then, this morning, I found one of them dead on the windowsill. The other one -I won’t say its companion, as they never really had anything to do with one another- is still going strong, but so was the dead one only a few hours before I found its lifeless body. I expect the death toll to have doubled by the end of the day.
There has been a transition in my attitude towards the flies over the last three days. My initial feelings of being invaded gradually turned to acceptance, followed by a sense of comfortable coexistence. Then I made the mistake of letting my feelings about the flies turn to fondness. Now I have lost one of the objects of my affection, and soon, I strongly fear, will find myself lamenting the loss of both.
Unlike, say, cats and dogs, flies are so very, very here today and gone tomorrow.