I want to kill.

I’m a pretty non-violent person, even going out of my way to avoid stepping on ants on the sidewalk, but as of late, my attitude toward those of the bug variety has changed.

For the past week, just as I am in the throes of a deep sleep, this fly* has come buzzing around my head like the Red Barron, causing me to flail my arms like a three-year-old in the midst of a temper tantrum. The rest of the night has me listening for that damn bugger to come at me again, because I know he will as he always does, no matter how many times my big limbs have attempted to cease his existence. Then every morning, without fail, the room is completely bugless, as if it were all a figment of my imagination.

Short of going to the store and trying to describe “fly paper” to the clerk in Spanish, does anyone have suggestions on how to be rid of this problem? Sleep-interrupted reasoning once led me to leave the bathroom light on, remembering the wise words of Janet Jackson, that moths, or flies, or all bugs, no? are drawn to fire/light. It didn’t work.


*As funny and clever as the idea might be, the fly is NOT a metaphor for Jay.