On a cold October morning, around 3 a.m. -- Hubby is awake. Grouchy and grumpy. Not just because of the pain in his shoulder - which is more than enough reason and cause for grouchiness and grumpiness. But on this morning, being grouchy and grumpy has more to do with one of his worst enemies.
His daddy built a fire in the living room fireplace yesterday that was so hot we had to open doors and windows to allow some of the heat to escape before we could stand to go to bed. (Which, our "beds" are in the living room right now - due to surgeries - a recliner for Rick, and a lift chair recliner for me.)
As the day became evening, the flies began to congregate on the front porch. Soon finding an open space at the door. They decided to come into the house and "explore".
Now, you need to understand.
Just about everyone we know dislikes flies.
A few people can tolerate them to a degree because of the life's work they have - dairymen, ranchers and such.
A few people hate them with such force that they will swat anything that even remotely looks like a fly.
My husband is neither.
He not only dislikes them, and he not only hates them with a passion - but he DETESTS them.
It has become one of his missions in life - HUNT the fly down and KILL it!
Take no prisoners. No quarter given.
There is no ounce of compassion in him towards a fly.
He has no toleration for them at all.
I have seen this man kill flies and gather their carcasses together into a pile on the floor - as a witness and a testimony to the other flies that this is what will happen to you if you come anywhere near him!
He has used a flyswatter, a rolled up newspaper, a shoe, a book, his bare hands, a water pistol, a BB gun, whatever is available - anything will do as long as the flies DIE!!!
So, last evening ... before we called it a night and went to bed - our daughter came down to check on us. She got drafted to help in the HUNT. She and her daddy took turns with the flyswatter all thru the house. To the tune of "I know we have more than one flyswatter in this house!" (Honestly, I have no idea where the flyswatters have disappeared to - unless a group of "smart" flies confiscated them thinking it would make them safe.)
When no more flies could be seen, Mandy went home ... and we finished a movie, then called it a night. Pain meds ... ice pack in place ... settle in the chairs ... full recline position ... and off to sleep.
The flies come out. Decide to walk on us - just enough to irritate our sleep and rest.
Finally, 3 a.m. Rick can stand it no longer!
He has been irritated enough! He has swatted at them so much that his shoulder is now aching. Pain meds later ... and with all the lights on ... the HUNT begins.
Find one ... swat with the left hand ... sometimes hit ... sometimes miss. Words of victory - "Got ya'!" or words of aggravation - "I can't ever do anything with my left hand!" Over and over ...
I am so tired and sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open ... but by the end of this HUNT - I am fully awake ... sigh.
Either Rick got tired and weary, or the pain meds kicked in ... or the flies decided to find a better hiding spot (or maybe a way out of this crazy house) ... anyway - Rick laid the flyswatter down, and settled back into his recliner around 4:30 a.m.
How many did he kill? I don't know. Call him and ask! LOL
The man and his HUNT ... sigh. Fine - but really? At 3 a.m.???
God, love this man you have give unto me!!! Please - do something with him! :-)
So why "Scattered Feathers" ? ? ?
You can read it here