A fly found his way into my bedroom yesterday morning at about 5:30 a.m. This was an egregious error on his part.
In this house my bedroom is called “The Fortress of Solitude,” mostly because that is the name I have given it. The word “solitude” is not in any way a reference to my currently vacuous sex life. It is called that simply because it is my only sanctuary away from the boys’ noise and mess.
I wake up early for the day, usually by 5:30 a.m. (occupational hazard), and immediately make my bed. I go downstairs, make some coffee, write a little, post my blog, and leave for the the gym. After breakfast I get ready for the day, and by 10:00 a.m. my bedroom door is shut tightly. Unless I need a change of clothes, I don’t go back in until bedtime. I don’t eat in my bedroom, I don’t take naps in there, I don’t work or read or sort laundry in there. I don’t even have a television in my bedroom. It is a tidy white plush-carpeted soundproof chamber with a marshmallow bed that (for now at least) is used only for sleep.
When I travel, I even lock my bedroom door (and hide the key) just in case my sons’ drunk friends make a wrong turn and decide they’ve found a nice comfy place to sleep. All my boys know how strongly I feel about them staying away from my bedroom. One day not too long ago I was watching the news, and I heard odd murmurings and a suspicious silence upstairs. If you’re a parent, the term “suspicious silence” does not need to be explained. I yelled up.
“What’s going on up there?”
Pause. Then my youngest son’s voice.
“Noooooothiiiiiing.”
Yeah, right. A few minutes later my phone dinged, and there was a selfie of my oldest and youngest illegally sprawled out on my bed with the caption, “Your bed is soooo comfortable.” By the time I raced up the stairs to kick them out, the door was shut again, they were playing video games and my bed was tidy. They acted like they didn’t know what I was talking about.
“You’re going nuts, Mom.”
Hilarious.
That said, this time of year when houseflies are back, I am extra vigilant about my door being shut at all times. I don’t want to hear them buzzing past my ears when I sleep, and I certainly don’t want them laying larvae on my windowsills. I’m afraid of waking up one morning to Jeff Goldblum staring at me from my linen settee.
The fly that managed to get into my bedroom yesterday morning must have gotten in in the three seconds it took me to open the door and then close it again. Like a Black Friday shopper waiting outside Walmart at 4:00 a.m. for an 84-inch flat screen t.v., he must have thought there was something pretty good behind that door.
Unfortunately, the only thing in there for him was his sure and absolute demise. His inevitable extermination. A swift and sure death at the hands of ME.
I did what had to be done.
I must say, for being so sluggish, he gave me a run for my money. It took me three swats to bring him down. I did things I cannot ever fully tell you about. Near his little corpse, I found a written log he must have been keeping. He was only in my bedroom for five hours, but you know, an hour to a fly is like a year, so there are five entries. Allow me to share them with you:
Year 1: I have made it into the pressurized White Chamber. There are no provisions and no humans. I see no way out, but I remain hopeful.
Year 2: I cling to the Warm Light, hoping that a human will enter and provide me with an escape. No luck yet.
Year 3: A human entered the chamber, and looked at me for some time. Maybe she is considering providing me with Some Food. They do this sometimes. Wish me luck.
Year 4: I am weakening. What a strange and empty place I am in. No food, no noise, no humans. I have passed the time reading, as the room is filled with books. I just finished Brothers Karamazov. Dostoevsky kills me. I am now beginning War and Peace. Tolstoy soothes my soul and provides me with hope.
Year 5: The human has returned and seems aggressive. She is carrying the Wand of Orange Death. I am too weak to hide, and there is nowhere to escape. Tell my family I love them and that I went out fighting.
Shoulda just stayed outta my room.