The Fly that wouldn't die and Being Retired, A Review

Today I did battle with a fly. Over the years I have developed expertise with a fly swatter that probably ranks up there with the great swatters of the 20th and 21st centuries. Now, I am not just blowing my own horn...well, actually I am because the fly duels have been deeply personal and remain unseen by any living person. My dog has watched with great interest, especially when the fight stays in the kitchen in hopes of a thwacked innocent bystander morsel of food winding up in his domain of floor.

As for my gear, I use a"Walmart special"swatter with white wire handle and a pale blue rubber head. I have altered the looped end of the wire bending it 180 degrees creating a hook. That hook allows quick access to the weapon with a spin move and flick of the wrist I have usually struck a deadly blow...but not today.

My opponent this morning escaped the tacky, fly paper coil hanging in the mudroom with all the previous contenders waving in the breeze. When I opened the door to let Toby in from doing his morning ablutions I saw that little black buzzer streak into the house with hunger born barfing in its compound eyes. In closing the outer door my shirt grazed the coil smearing decomposing bug goo on it as I pulled myself free. This fly was going down FAST.

I grabbed my trusty pale blue swatter, spun it into the ready position and scanned the kitchen for a sign of the maddening, little, winged maggot. There was determination in my eyes as I scanned the room. Nothing in the air or resting on any surface. I toured the ground floor, but there was nothing. I was not going to give up. I returned to the kitchen just in time to see the critter alight on a stove burner.  I crept into position and let fly with Ol' Blue...THWACK! Nothing. Nothing? No dead body. No dead bug residue. I missed? How? I never even saw it fly away! As I turned it flew past my head at Warp 3. I made a reflex swing (like a batter does when the pitch looks to be a beanball) but whiffed. I could swear I saw it give me the finger as it passed.

I set pieces of fruit on the counter in what I would think a rather enticing display for flies and waited. It didn't take long for it to zoom in and sit on a rather overripe banana. I held my breath, lined it up, took careful aim and WHACK! I know I hit it! I heard the sound of rubber striking banana and had the napkin ready to clean up the mess and toss the remains and the fruit in the trash. There were no remains. The Houdini of flies had eluded me again.

As of this writing, my nemesis remains at large. It is in hiding and I am sure it will eventually fall prey to my trusty Ol' Blue. Either that or I will find it floating in my coffee mug, legs in the air dead as a doornail.
Notice must be paid. If this one gets away it will be a first. I who have killed as many as three with one blow must grudgingly say...respect.
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A quick observation regarding retirement.
I no longer wear a wristwatch.
For so many years I lived by the watch. Appointments, schedules, places to go people to see every day came via the clock whether digital or analog (like my watches).
What it boils down to is my schedule is my own. I don't need a watch unless I want to dress in one.
Being retired doesn't mean you aren't busy. You are not sitting on your porch watching the world go by while waiting to keel over in the end.
My doddering days are yet to come. That's not to say I haven't had my moments when I feel my body wants a divorce. A surgery and numerous visits to various medical offices have seemed to occupy much of my time, but travel is in the offing and my interests are varied and fulfilling. There are many things left to learn and experience.

So if anyone wants to know how retirement is...my friend said it best. Retirement is like six Saturdays and a Sunday. You gotta love that.