About the flies: Laurie's theory of relativity

Of course, the conversation gravitated to the usual topic. I was visiting my sisters last night. There are horse shows coming up in late May so I needed to provide them some copies of Lefty's registration and my Arabian Horse Club membership card. They'll add that paperwork to the packet when they send in the entries tomorrow.

We talked about movies and neighborhood gossip and horses---and fake tails for horses whose tails got chewed off over the winter. Then, our gabfest shifted to the cruise-control topic of the past five months: lamenting the endless winter.

Barbara told of a moment yesterday morning while she was driving to school. She had reached the Safeway store in town, having driven through clear skies and sun, only to see a true split personality. She could still see the clear skies in her review mirror but could hardly see in front of her because of a blinding snowstorm.

I'm guessing that was just right around the time I was bragging about no snow yesterday in my blog posting, only to momentarily look up and see the raging blizzard outside my window.

Well, we continued to talk weather and how hard it had been on everyone--definitely a subject everyone keeps talking about, no matter where you go. My sisters told me they'd heard that the local campgrounds along the Pend Oreille River, which usually start catering to guests by May 1, have pushed back their opening dates by two weeks.

To that, I said, "Well, we've all been short-changed this year."

To that, Laurie said, "But remember the flies."

To that, I smiled and instantly nixed any further commentary, agreeing with my younger sister. It was time to quit complaining.

After all, the day before, during a similar "ain't it awful" conversation, Laurie had brought up the flies.

"Think of the flies," she said. "They've had a real bummer this year. Their lives have been cut short by at least a couple of months." Laurie went on to point out that their population has suffered probably a lot more than the rest of us earthly critters.

What's a bunch of storm damage if you don't have a life? Who cares whether or not the flowers will ever come up if your life hasn't yet gotten off the ground?

I'm sure the flies in their larva stages aren't at all impressed with any of our moaning or groaning. After all, they're not yet alive to land on our noses where they can get an up-close and personal view of just what's on our mind that day.

Laurie's assertion concerning the flies does tend to stop one's tongue short. It's all relative, I guess, and if you're a fly, you've really got troubles this year.

So, if you catch yourself today or tomorrow bitching, moaning, complaining, cussing about the cruel hand life has dealt you, just think for one second and save the comments.

At least you've got a life.

The flies don't.

When they do, though, you'd be wise to have those swatters handy, cuz the little buggers have got good reason to be mad this year. You can bet that any self-respecting fly is gonna make hay with that limited life span and annoy the heck out of you.