Dilemmas while constructing ideals: a fly

There has been a fly in my apartment since yesterday. It has been buzzing around, alighting on food and on the tip of my nose at times, getting in the way of my perambulations and has generally been a pain even in the absence of the proverbial ointment.

It is afternoon and after my siesta, the time is ripe for visions. Watching the spent tea leaves being churned in the sink with an almost cosmic grace, beatific thoughts brings tears to my eyes. I envision the world and human nature as it should be. Without fear, and with knowledge and enlightenment; without war and famine and with cool, sunny days throughout the year; without hatred and fur coats; a mass of humanity at peace with nature and harbouring love towards all living things. A world where everyman retains an acute sense of reality without losing his finer instincts of constructive dreaminess. Love and peace; sugar, spice and everything nice. With one exception. The fly has to go. The fly has no place in my scheme of love and good things. I look around for the cleaner-spray: sticky, and toxic to tiny, spontaneous beings who spend their while droning in single-minded celebration of life.

The fly is gone now and my vision for the betterment of the world is well on its way to being fulfilled.