Distractions

Now we know why George H. Bush hated Barackaly.

I could just sit here and zone out on the view to my left which takes me past the nearby banana tree that competes for sunshine with an entwined coffee bush and then down to the metal roofed concrete square that houses a seldom seen Indio family and then rises dramatically in shades of green to terracotta roofed structures across the valley that seem dwarfed by first the distance from me and secondly by the mountain that rises behind them, but I'm distracted from doing so by the fly that keeps buzzing by my head and, oh yeah, the blinking cursor eighteen inches from my nose. (Hmmm. Blinking cursor. That sounds like I'm cursing the cursor while trying not to be crude.) I'm distracted by distractions.

Momentito, I'm going for the swatter.

Now, if I can just get him to land...I never miss.

Through the window to my right there's an equally compelling sunlit vista in front of which is a tall thin woman wearing a white tee, blue jeans and lavender Crocs. She's got a hose in her hand and appears to be watering the driveway. Oh, wait, that's Woowoo Charly. Probably just bad aim.

Arrogant little bugger. I set the swatter on the desk while I typed and he landed on it. He's going down, I tell ya, he's going down.

I think it's the fly season, moscas as they are called here, because, suddenly, we have them. The thing with swatting flies, I've noticed, is that you have to clean up their dead bodies right away. If you don't, other flies come to feed on them. Disgusting little shits if you ask me, even though I know they have their place in nature. Thing is, my house is not that place.

I've got the computer set so that if I look straight up over it, what I see is just wall. Sure, there is beauty to be had using my, as Bob Cousy used to say, pahwiffial vision, but I'm doing my best to avoid distractions like beauty and, ah, flies. I'm here to write this thing on a regular basis and distractions are my enemy.

That does it! He's buzzing me again and he's called in reserves. The war is definitely on!

Sometimes, I'm sorry to say, the enemy wins. Hasta manana...if I'm not distracted.