Like a Cherry Cordial, but with a Fly Center

You know what's disgusting? Finding a big fat black house fly floating in your coffee. That's what.

As you may know I'm not a big fan of bugs, but I'm not a complete wimp about them either. At least not all bugs. I'll pick up earthworms and let ladybugs walk on my hands. I'll pet woolly bear caterpillars, admire large slugs

and even be somewhat delighted by large green katydids walking up my stomach.

But something about a large housefly doing the backstroke in my coffee really turned my stomach.

You see, I poured myself a nice cup of coffee from the big urn at work. Then I poured in a bit of sugar from the sugar canister. I didn't think much of the lump of sugar when it plunked in. Sugar lumps happen. And usually they are tasty. But when the sugar lump has a fly center, like a corrupt, mutant cherry cordial, it's kinda gross. I carried my coffee down to my desk, took off the lid, poured in a bit of creamer and stirred it up. And a big fat black house fly floated up to the surface, no longer camouflaged in sugar crystals.

It took my mind a minute to process that it was actually a large insect floating in my much-anticipated morning beverage. I poked it several times with the coffee stirrer, watching its bloated, dead body, translucent wings, six legs and bulging eyes bob up and down.

I then carefully covered my mug again and returned to the break room. I dumped it down the drain and spent the next 15 minutes scrubbing my coffee mug and vowing never, ever, ever, ever, ever to use the sugar canister again. (I have a history with those things anyway).

Then I poured myself a fresh cup sans sugar and took it to my desk, trying to tell myself that I had scrubbed every fly molecule out of that cup. I wasn't quite convinced despite the elbow grease I had applied, the sore muscles I had acquired and the mounds of soapy bubbles I left behind in the break room sink. But I stirred it several times and nothing gross bobbed to the surface. I added some sugar from my own stash in my drawer (that sugar stash is a whole blog post in itself - maybe I'll tell you about it sometime). I stirred it several more times. It seemed safe. I tentatively took a sip. No legs. No wings. At least not that I could detect with my taste buds or my tongue.

I finished the cup with nary an incident, but I may not ever be able to drink coffee with quite the same carefree aplomb again. Damn fly!

Quack!