Build a Better Fly Swatter

I don’t need a better mousetrap

Build a better mousetrap and the world might beat a path to your door, but I won’t be leading that charge. I don’t need a better mousetrap (I have cats). I do need a better fly swatter. Because I can’t swat a fly to save my life. Instead, my incompetence has spared hundreds of theirs.

It pains me to admit my ineptitude. After all, I am a capable adult with reasonably developed hand-eye coordination. I can remove splinters, thread needles and type 65 words per minute. And while I’m no athlete, I can play Ping-Pong, hit a softball or put a basketball through a hoop in a game of H-O-R-S-E.

But hand me a fly swatter and I become a human windmill. I move a lot of air, but no flies die.

I’m not that slow

I can’t necessarily blame a slow reaction time either. I’m a Mom; we have speed. I’ve prevented my children from tumbling down the stairs, ingesting poisonous plants, and dashing into the street. I can drag a vomiting dog from the living room to the grass in the front yard before the kids finish yelling, “Mom! The dog’s gonna BARF!”

And my chocolate bar may fall off the counter, but it never hits the floor.

It’s not faulty equipment

A change of equipment doesn’t help. I’ve tried the low-tech, plastic mesh swatters with the wire handles. The higher-tech, ultra flexible silicone swatters with aerodynamic handles that prevent air currents from alerting the fly. The battery operated bug zappers that look like electrified tennis rackets. Newspaper. Dish towels. All failures.

Even my dog is a more efficient fly catcher than me. And he eats them.

It’s all about avoiding the splat

My husband suggested that my inability to strike a killing blow stems from psychological squeamishness. And yes, splattering the guts of some fat cluster fly against my patio door does have a significant “ick” factor. But again, I’m a Mom; I’ve cleaned up my share of gross and disgusting.

Maybe it takes more practice. If I had the proper technique, I could snap my fly swatter in midair and avoid the splat factor entirely. Perhaps I should study martial arts and learn to catch flies with chopsticks, like in “The Karate Kid” movie. Or just channel my inner do-it-yourself environmentalist and create some all-natural, homemade flypaper.

I could also purchase a Venus flytrap.

So if you invent a better fly swatter I might beat my way to your door.

Or I can smile winsomely at my husband and say, “Honey, can you kill that fly for me?”

Because if he splatters their guts on the patio door, he’ll have to clean it up.

Are you as hopeless at swatting flies as I am? If not, share your best advice for me in the comments below.

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