Taylor and I are officially moved in. Our couches are sitting in the appropriate spots, our books are on the bookshelves (well, mine are) and we have each taken showers in the funky/retro tiled shower. It is our home, and we like it.
Except for the moths.
Since yesterday when we brought all of our boxes in, we have noticed an abundance of flour moths, the little brown squishy wing-flappers that get stuck in your hair, land on your legs, and lay eggs in your baking supplies. They are not the grossest bug imaginable, but they are obnoxious. Any bug that I can picture crawling up my nose while I sleep needs to go.
So today, after Taylor and I went to Target and spent a hundred and fifty dollars on things like trash cans and lightbulbs, we made a stop at Home Depot to buy a moth trap. The box looked almost empty, just two triangles of cardboard with a little packet at the bottom. Once back at home (ah! home! i’ll say it again. hoooooome.) we put the traps together and stuck one on a bookcase and one on the refrigerator. After about fifteen seconds without a moth death, I grabbed one of the traps and waved it at one of the moths on the wall.
“Hey. Hey, moth,” I whispered. “C’mere. Smells good, huh? Come in here. C’mooon. C’mon.”
The moth regarded me with silent disdain.
Irritated, I pushed the trap against the wall, and scraped it slowly towards the bug.
“Delicious trap,” I whispered to it. “Come in here. Come see how delicious it is in here.”
Suddenly, the moth propelled away from the wall and exploded in a flurry of fluttering around my head. I shrieked and dashed towards the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Taylor called from the bedroom.
“I’m being attacked by a moth!” I shouted back, trying to fend it off with the trap.
I set the trap back up on the refrigerator and watched the moth dance around it for a few minutes before settling serenely on the opposite wall.
You win this time, moth.
This isn’t over.