Scene: Kitchen.
I am holding forth on something or other at the same time as trying to bat at a little fruit fly (or Drosophilia melanogaster as it likes to be known on formal occasions).
I suddenly fall silent, Lover, well Spouse, is unused to such silences and looks up enquiringly, no doubt wondering whether the issue could be a temporary lapse in her own hearing (rather like an ipod going down...has the song stopped abruptly or is it the earphones?)
I am standing very still in the kitchen still holding the fluorescent fly swat aloft, yet quite motionless.
"I just swallowed a fly."
I say.
Lover: "Thanks I've been trying to get that one for ages."
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Kitchen sink drama
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2 comments:
I used to work with drosophila in my genetic lab in college and I cannot tell you how many of those suckers went right down my esophagus. I'm pretty sure I had one go down the old wind pipe, too. I think it's safe to say that you'll be ok... I'm still alive and have no birthed any large, mutant fruit flies (that I know of)
Thanks for the comment, nice to see you on the site. Sorry for the appalling lapse of time since I last was tapping way here. PFSD- Post Fly Swallowing Disorder. Relieved to realise I am not about to give birth to a strange me-fly hybrid, or have a Kafka-esque metamorphosis for that matter.
Take care
Cal
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