As I talked about a few days ago, yesterday we had some family and friends over for Beard’s graduation celebration. All went well: food was good, company was great.
As with any barbeque party, we expected people to be coming in and out of the house to use the bathroom, get drinks, etc., and with the door being open so much we expected a few uhh, unwelcome visitors to make their way into the house. Namely, we expected Malcolm and Nadia to weasle their way inside.
If you haven’t read my “About” section I talk about how both Malcolm and Nadia (our cats) used to live inside until, after living with us almost a year and a half, they decided to stop using the litter box. Ever since then they have lived outside. We never had them de-clawed, so we knew they could fend for themselves in the “wild” of our neighborhood. Occasionally we are left gifts of mouse or chipmunk carcasses, but for the most part, our feline friends still feast on Purina One Cat Chow, just the same as they did inside.
Anyhoo, not to get off track.
We had expected Malcolm and Nadia to make their way inside, but we hadn’t counted on other unwelcome guests: guests of the winged variety. By the time everyone left last night we had about 15 flies sleeping on our living room ceiling. Disgusting, yes. I agree.
There’s not much we could, or really wanted to do, at the time, so we waited until today to take care of them.
And folks, here you have it: the silly Beard moment of the week.
Armed with an old school fly swatter, my sweet husband defended my honor by killing 17 flies in our kitchen this afternoon. As a woman not so keen on flying, winged insects, this afternoon, my husband is my hero.