Fly or Fly Paper?

When I'm bored in class, along with critiquing people's hair cuts, I find myself creating analogies and metaphors. I think it all stems from several weeks ago when my editor shared one.

This is my newest:

Sometimes I feel like fly paper, but I don't want to catch flies. I'll notice one beginning to come a little close and I'll try to warn it. I mean fly paper gives out signals that it's fly paper. Alas, the silly fly will ignore all signals and come too close. Then it's stuck. I keep trying to brush it off, but it's no use, completely stuck. I've caught an unwanted fly and now have to deal with it. It's annoying.

All kinds of people can act like flies: the overly friendly stranger, an acquaintance who thinks you're close friends, and the most obvious and worst kind, which I prefer not to mention explicitly. It's not that I don't like people, but I like my space, and don't want them to be stuck to me. Everyone has a few unwanted flies.

But then I begin to wonder how many people think of me as a fly on their fly paper and decide maybe I shouldn't be so dramatic.

Creepy Crawlies

The bugs around this house have no respect for personal space, especially mine. The day before yesterday (Tuesday) I was sitting on the front porch reading and getting a tan, when my mother called. I answered the phone and we chatted for a few minutes. When I went to hang up the phone I looked down at it to press the off button and saw a big orange spider crawling across the screen of the phone. I freaked out and shook the phone to get it off and away from me. Naturally, it disappeared which continued to make me nervous, because I was sure it was in my hair or somewhere else I didn't want it to be. I jumped up and danced around trying to find the spider, but he was taking too long to come out of hiding, so I sat back down, paranoid, and with my book. But then I started to think, where did it come from? The phone was up to my ear and when I picked it up there was no spider on it, but when I hung it up there it was...does that mean it was already on me?! That gave me chills and I frantically started running my hands through my hair making sure there was nothing else and hoping to God I didn't actually touch anything. I calmed down and started reading again and my faithful dog (God bless him) came out the front door, which I had left open, every five minutes to check on me. He'd walk out, look around the yard, look at me, sigh, then go back into the house. Good boy.

And today I was enjoying a bubble bath, listening to Josh Groban, when a daddy long leg crawled past my arm and sent shivers down my spine. I just let him keep on going because I figured he would just climb up into his corner like daddy long legs are supposed to do, but no. We got down to where my feet were and tried to get down into my bubbles. Foolish little thing. Of course he started to struggle and I watched him hoping he would get out, which he did, but then he started to go back towards my bubbles and got in trouble again. I figured he was just trying to flirt with me, which was pointless because he definitely wasn't my type. But like always, I felt bad for him after he tried to hit on me and failed miserably, so I grabbed my mom's dry face wash bottle and helped him away from the bubbles and to the safety of the wall. After that he took the hint that I wasn't interested and just chilled in the corner like he should have done from the start.