I spent ten minutes this morning chasing a fly around the kitchen. Mostly, I was chasing the little bugger because my dog wouldn’t leave it alone and having a 160 pound dog storming all over my tiny kitchen trying to catch a fly was getting to be moderately destructive. You know the sense of victory that you get when you finally GET the fly with the swatter? You know, maybe one molecule of elation less than finishing a marathon or winning the lottery? Well, I felt it. Then, the worst thing ever happened. I KNEW that I had murderized the fly, but I couldn’t find its dirty little carcass anywhere! I opened and closed the window (of course he made me squash him on the window leading to later window washing–further evidence of fly jackassery), I moved the radiator cover, I pulled out the table and swept the floor (don’t do this-ever- it’s gross) and, upon giving up and deciding that I had not just eradicated the fly, I had VAPORIZED him, I took a triumphant gulp of coffee. And swallowed a dead fly.