To learn to love flies, you must make annoyance your teacher. Years ago, on a hot summer afternoon, I was sitting on my front porch when a housefly took a liking to me. I swatted, but it kept returning, landing on my arm, my leg, my face, my knee. I simmered with agitation and eventually retreated inside. Somehow the fly managed to accompany me and continued to circle and alight on my skin. In a moment of rage, I slapped my arm — and the fly upon it. And, amazingly, I got it.