C'mon!!!! Seriously. Another Night of the Flies. I killed 5. Either they are slow and ready to die, or I kick ass in the fly killing department. The theory I have is it's something in the basement - does this sound like the synopsis for a horror movie or what - and the flies are coming up through the central heating. I had a similar - no less horrifying - situation this summer when Dinsdale was peeing in the basement and the forced air was bringing it up to the house. But first thing tomorrow I'm down there, with flashlight - Nancy Drew, The Later Years - to see what I can see. Aside from the swatting activity (various methods: broom, rolled up New Yorker, hand), a quiet evening. I spent some time on a paper and thread project and then watched an installment in J.J. Abrams shit-o-riffic new series, Fringe. Memo to JJ: stop trying to build a fucking empire and focus on just not Twin-Peaking your Lost storyline. TV and movies having to do with horror - NOT splatter - are hold overs from my days weaned on Thriller, The Twilight Zone, Outer Limits, Alfred Hitchcock and continue to be a guilty pleasure. I even watch Medium, talk about your walking and talking crap. So I rent all this crap that comes down the pike and most of it is just that, with some exceptions.
As for the weekend, the weather is supposed to be shitty and after chores are done, I have nothing to do but paint, so that qualifies as a lovely time in my book.