Sunday

What is it about a Sunday that is inherently lazy? I'm sitting in the living room in the midst of clutter, wishing it would somehow clean itself, and yet I cannot bring myself to disturb the serene silence of the house. Even the houseflies (why are there so many of them in the house?) have silenced themselves and are no where to be fou-- I take that back. One is staring at me from his perch on the table lamp.

These flies are remarkable, in the older sense of the word, that they are interesting enough to warrant a remark. You know how flies usually are so fast that when you swat at them, no matter how quick you are they always end up staring at you from the other side of the room? These are not that kind of fly. They're bigger, for one. And they don't usually fly around the center of the room. They spend all their time near the ceiling, and are so slow, that yesterday I was actually able to vacuum up about twenty of them. That's the other remarkable thing. There are so many!!! I'm tempted to wonder if there's a body hidden in the house. But if that were the case, surely I'd smell the decay before the flies showed up.

Also, they've avoided the trash can completely, and the baby's room. Interesting. Very interesting.