There interposed a fly

I was just out running for a half hour, and ran the entire time (except when I stopped to tie my shoe laces, which wasn't long).  So, of course that makes a new personal best, which is wonderful and laughable at the same time.

This time I ran clockwise (last time it was counterclockwise) around the Hancock Building and damn if I didn't look worse than the other day.  That belly!  Maybe it was the shirt I was wearing?  How can all the meat (or fat, or whatever you call it) be all tight one day and all loose the next?  Add to the puzzle the fact that my weight has not changed lately, so what it this all about?  Am I full of gas?  Tomorrow will I have a long shameful out-gassing that will leave me slim and trim?   Stay tuned and find out.  I know I will.

You can say a prayer to the personal gas-god for me.

SO ANYWAY, because Emma doesn't usually have stuff to talk about on the phone now, I've been making notes of every little thing that happens to me.  That way, at least I have conversational material.  I told her how I went I arrived at work yesterday morning I didn't feel like going right up to my office, so I got a cup of coffee and sat down near Gummint Center to drink it in peace.  When along came a big fly ("There interposed a fly," as what's her name would say -- Emily Dickinson)... this big fly came down, not buzzing, but falling in a spiral, and plop! he landed DEAD in my coffee!  DOA!  DOAIMC!  I am not a what-do-call-it, Insect Medical Examiner, so I had no explanation.  Where the hell did he come from?  I dumped out some coffee so as to get rid of the little feller, and with great aplomb I took another sip of coffee.

But I couldnt' swallow it.  Someone began drawing a diagram in my head showing all the germs and boogies and crap flowing off the little buggy body into my drink, and the word diffusion reared its ugly head.  How could I know what that fly had put in my coffee?

I'm sorry coffee-god, fly-god, ground-god, and trash-god, but I spat out the coffee from my mouth, dumped the rest, tossed the cup, and went back for another, cleaner coffee.  The girl behind the counter asked, "Weren't you just..." and when I explained, she said, "I hope you have better luck with this one."

[Mindsay suggested the tag "fly girl", so I went with it.]