Do you remember that bad scene from The Green Mile?...

In a previous post I mentioned my awesome fly swatter. It is essentially an electrified tennis racket. Two D batteries sit in the handle (gives it some nice heft, let me tell you), and the "web" is made of a wire grid between two plastic grids, complete with a lightning bolt design in the middle. There's a small yellow button in the handle which you press to turn on the "juice". It's bad ass, yo.

The only problem is...it doesn't work. Oh, it zaps. If you hit the fly just after starting the juice, there's a loud pop, a blue spark, and the fly usually sticks to the grid, only dislodged by knocking the swatter against the trash can's side. Sadly, this is a rare occurrence. Most of the time, the flies don't die.

Most of the time, the fly gets a jolt, falls to the ground, and spins around like a helicopter with a broken rotor. If I hit it hard enough and give it some momentum, it ends up on the patterned rug or behind a piece of furniture, only to reappear five minutes later--a little slower, perhaps, but still flying.

That is if it doesn't get stuck to the grid and buzz madly, giving out a little more smoke each time I hit the button to try and zap it out of existence. Usually there's a little smoke and a bad, burnt smell in the air by the time the fly stops moving.

I'm not sure how to feel about this. The hippie side of me wants to cry for the pain and suffering and agony the fly is going through--that I'm making it go through. The cynical side of me wants the damned thing to die already and quit making such a smelly, smokey racket. The part of me raised by David, my stepfather, wants to see if the fly will eventually explode or burst into flame if I hold the button down long enough.

Yeah, that last part disturbs me, too.

The best part of all this?

There are dozens of flies living in the mud room just outside the apartment door. We're not sure where they came from, but they're there, and they're multiplying. And they keep finding ways into our apartment.

This is going to get nasty.

And I wonder why I'm always tired.

On Saturdays, I open up work at 7 AM. This means I have to get up at 6 AM. If I want a full 8 hours of sleep, I need to be slumbering by 10 PM Friday night.

This is how my Friday night usually goes:

9:30 PM
I should probably head to bed soon. I may not get a full 8 hours (and hell, would I know what to do with them?), but I should try to get as much as possible.

10 PM
I should probably go to bed soon.

10:15 PM
I should probably go to bed soon.

10:30 PM
I should probably go to bed soon.

11 PM
Ryan: Dear, it's 11 PM.
Me: And?
Ryan: I just wanted to let you know. It's 11.
Me: Okay...
Ryan: In case you were unaware. It's 11. Pee-Emm.
Me: Ryan.
Ryan: Ruth.
Me: ...
Ryan: It's 11 PM.

11:10 PM
Ryan: It is now 10 after 11.

11:15 PM
Ryan: It is now quarter after 11.

11:20 PM
Ryan: It is now--
Me: OKAY! SHUT UP!

11:25 PM
Turn off computer, start bed prep: brushing teeth, taking pills, moving morning-prep things to living room so the chances to wake Ryan are minimized, putting bag together so I can leave on time, etc.

11:30 - 11:50 PM
Listen to Ryan talk about something WoW-related that he decided to mention as I was getting ready for bed. Listen with half my brain, remember the conversation at 11 with other half.

11:50 PM - 12:05 AM
Chase fly around room with awesome new fly swatter while cursing like a sailor.

12:05 AM - 12:25 AM
Climb into bed, I talk at Ryan, who is too nice to just leave the bedroom while I'm yakking at him even though I should be asleep.

12:30 AM
Ryan leaves the room. I read a magazine or book to try and quiet my mind for sleeping.

12:30 - 12:40 AM
Fly reappears on bedside lamp. Try to ignore it. Try to read. Try to ignore it. Try to ignore it. Try to ignore it.

12:45 AM
Do you watch Family Guy? Have you ever seen one of the episodes where the giant chicken comes in and there's a drawn-out, over-the-top fight scene between him and Peter? Yeah that. But with replace Peter Griffin with me and the chicken with a fly.

1:00 AM
After one final swat, decide that the fly is dead even though I can't find the body. Turn off the light. Ryan asks if I want the door closed so the music won't keep me awake, I say no, I like it, it helps me fall asleep.

1:00 - 1:30 AM
Each song change wakes me up a little. Each squeak of the office chair wakes me up a little. Random words in the songs will wake me up a little. The cat moving around upstairs will wake me up a little. Every time I wake up, it feels like I've been asleep for 3 hours, when in reality it's been less than five minutes.

1:30 AM
Ryan finally comes to bed. I use his arm as a pillow and make a happy little "mmm" sound. When he tries to take his arm back, I inform him that "mmm" is part of the English dialect known as Girlese and translates into "Your arm is mine now, ha ha."

1:45 AM
Finally fall asleep.


All I can say is: thank God for energy drinks.