Another WTF Moment

I’m a creature of habit.  I have my routines and my way own peculiar way of doing things.  I’d like to say I’m the kind of guy who can “roll with it,” as things come along.  I’d like to say that – but that wouldn’t be true.  Maybe, I used to be that guy, but not anymore.  I find that the older get, the more I need – no – require, my routines to keep me from wandering out in traffic.

Each and every morning,  I celebrate the dark roasted miracle of coffee.  Once I finish that first cup, the sun may shine and birds have permission to sing.  Until then, all bets are off and the birds best stay hidden in their little twiggy nests.  The quality of the entire day hinges on the aroma wafting up from my coffee mug and the caffeinated goodness therein.

courtesy of

courtesy of

(note to self: if you put a post together on the Ritual Of The First Cup, men in white jackets will come carrying a really tight jacket with long sleeves that buckle in the back)

courtesy of movie

courtesy of movie

So, I’m soaking in the deep roasted flavor from a local coffee roaster, breathing in the aroma, deep into my lungs, and I take that last sip…


Something is in the bottom of my cup.  Not coffee grounds, or a partially ground roasted bean.  In the shallows lay a huge black fly.  A big ugly, Jeff Goldblum looking fly.  I expected a “Help me,”  whispering up from the black form.


This trespasser wasn’t a recently deceased critter, one who took a wrong turn and crash landed in my cup.   In that scenario, the offending fly would float like a witch in Salem, flick a wing and go belly up on the surface.  This demon-fly had been on the bottom for a while, stewing.

I put up imaginary miniature orange cones and crime scene tape around my cup and knew this was a deliberate attack on my morning ritual, a purposeful attempt to screw with me.  By this time, I could taste fly in the back of my throat.  WTF.  It tasted fine until I saw the damn thing!

The rest of my day was thrown into chaos and disarray – all from a fly.

WTF:  Where’d The Fly come from?  The investigation continues…


  1. Thanks for another laugh, James. Glad I was off my routine today and didn’t get on the computer until well after my coffee was done 🙂

    1. I’m happy to report the coffee pot is a fly free zone this morning.

  2. That’s why my cuppa never leaves my eye.. Until i’m done with it that is 😊 glad to see you survived the ordeal!

    1. Thanks and I did survive the encounter with the fly, but I seem to have a strange attraction to smelly things…

  3. K. Renae P. · · Reply

    Hahaha. Suicidal flies are always landing in my coffee or wine when I’m on my porch.

    Fun post.

    1. No kidding! It’s like the damn things are the lemmings of the insect world.

  4. Fly tainted coffee is bound to ruin anybodys day…Bleh!

    1. And then there are the people who drink the coffee derived from civet droppings. That’s just so wrong – on so many levels!

      1. O_o …That is all kinds of wrong.

  5. Horrific! But I’ll bet it didn’t make you swear off Java 😏

    1. I suffer from post-fly-trama to this day. But, I am more careful about what may be lurking about my coffee cup.

      1. Isn’t that why they invented spoons? 😉

      2. Or itty bitty fly straining straws…

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