So apparently there’s some kind of secret beacon emitting from our house that shouts out to all of moth kind “HEY!! MOTHS!!GET IN HERE!!!” They’ve grown particularly fond of spiralling down from the ceiling, as if from nowhere, into my face and hair at 3 in the morning as I’m running to the loo in order to pee. It doesn’t help. Especially since our loo is right at the top of our stairs, so any particular extravagant moth acrobatics could result in my own spiralling- down the stairs.
You see, at night we keep the upstairs landing light on in our house- this is because both my mum and I suffer from a serious, yet ultimately irrational, fear of the dark. Recently where it’s been so hot we’ve also had the landing window open. And therein lies the problem; Moths see light; Moths fly in; I get up; Moths fly at me. Last night was the worst one yet. There were well over 20 moths in our landing alone- and I’m not even exaggerating. Bleary eyed, and cursing my late night cup of tea at 1 in the morning (Why do I insist on having one? All that happens is I end up needing to pee at ridiculously times of the morning) I stumbled from my room and instantly about 5 were on me. Careful not to shriek and wake up everyone else, I simply batted them away frantically, whimpering, and earned some strange and curious looks from my cat Charlie (who was drinking from the china cup we put out on the landing next to the bathroom for her when she wants some water. Also she likes to drink whilst we brush our teeth at night, so she feels like she’s doing the same thing). After battling with the front line I went deeper into enemy territory and stumbled upon some heavy artillery in the form of a couple of Fat-Arse moths who wouldn’t have looked out of place battling ‘GOJIRA’. I woke my dad up at this moment whilst dodging a particularly vicious attack to my fringe, tripping over the chair on our landing and falling onto our banister. All I heard was a sleepy “AmywillyougobacktobedleavehtmothsaloZZZZZZ” and he was down. I finally made it to the loo, but as soon as I sat down another moth flew in through our loo window and began swerving around my head, edging nearer to my face. Moving clearly wasn’t an option so i just had to wave my hands around the top of my head like a little fan, trying to hit it away. I felt it touch my hand and freaked out, finished peeing and ran into the bathroom, seeking sanctuary (and a sink. I’m not a skank, I washed my hands, don’t worry. No amount of moth attack could stop me from doing that). I opened the door, saw a load of them waiting to spring yet another ambush and suddenly thought “Fuck it”, and ran into my room, dodging them as if they were dust covered, slow moving bullets, diving under my quilt and waited for Charlie to come and join me for fusses and the like.
I wouldn’t mind them so much if it wasn’t for the fact they seemed to be obsessed with my face. Ever since I was attacked by Mothra in Primark a few years back- I unfolded a towel and a moth the size of my hand shot out and smacked me in the face causing me to scream, run about and yelp in front a VERY full floor of desperate shoppers and my two sisters who, caringly, fell about laughing-
I just hate them flying towards me. They make me very nervous. For the same reason i hate daddy-long legs. Except that’s mostly because they look like giant spiders with wings.
And what’s with the dying thing after a few days thing?!? Sad, I know, but you’d think they’d try and make the most of it, catch a film, hook up with some sweet moth bootee, you know, but NO- they’re like kamikaze pilots!! They either spend their days flying constantly into bright and hot lights, flying into spiders webs or flying into your bath. WHAT IS THAT ABOUT?! Whenever i am in the bath or shower, if there is a moth in the room with you, no matter how much you try to prevent it, how much you swish them away or shout “NO! GET AWAY FROM THE WATER, DUMBASS!!” they still manage to just dive bomb into it- and once a moth lands in water that’s it. Because you can see all their precious moth dust, that looks like glitter, coming away in the bath water and somehow- even though you did EVERYTHING in your power to stop the moth from landing in the water- you feel guilty. As if you could have prevented it. Maybe if you hadn’t run the bath in the first place, or had the shower- maybe if you’d tried to catch it as soon as you saw it, or BEFORE YOU GOT IN THE BATH, IF POSSIBLE. You try and tell yourself “If it wasn’t my bath it would’ve been someone else’s”, but no. Ultimately your need to be clean ended the life of an innocent- well no, not innocent, er, naive young moth. And as it floats there you find yourself desperately rationalising you could save it- TRY AND SAVE IT!!! You fish it out with your hands, and the situation gets worse as you drop it once, then again, then it sinks a little, but finally you get it out of the water. You put it on the side, and blow on it, desperately trying to dry out it’s wings. But to no avail. The moth will never fly again. And you know at this point- because somehow the damn thing is still alive- you know you need to be merciful and kill the moth. And the only appropriate W.O.M.D (Weapon Of Moth Destruction) you have is your new bottle of Dove Repairing Treatment Conditioner ma just brought back from superdrug for you. And you don’t want to get it grubby with moth guts, but as you look down at it’s frail, dustless body you know you have no choice. And So endeth the life of yet another kamikaze moth.
So yeah. Moths; They’re not only useless but they’re frustrating. Kinda like Louis Walsh.
xXx
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