There's a bloody blowfly beating itself against the window and then buzzing around the room like a crazed World War II bomber pilot.
The blowfly reminds me of a NSW politician. The blowfly lives on leftovers and faeces, while the pollie bludges whatever he can to fill his personal coffers.
The blowfly is fat and full of maggots; our politicians are fat and full of bull****. The blowfly doesn't understand boundaries, it flies up noses and into ears. The politician gets up our noses and is always in our ear with some rant about how he's working with our best interests at heart...
Both are annoying and we're never rid of them!
Now that rant is over, I must say life is pretty damn good (apart from W-O-R-K) and the sky is pale blue.
More stuff on romance and swimming soon. In the meantime, I'm off to get the swatter.