Moth menace

I've never been a great fan of any insects other than butterflies and ladybirds, and I also have a problem with spiders as long as they're not very tiny. It doesn't matter that I know they can't hurt me (in this country anyway) - rationality doesn't factor into it.

Then, last night, as I was sitting comfortably on the couch watching Gordon Ramsay yell at some poor sod whose restaurant was going to shit, I saw something moving up near the lamp, out of the corner of my eye. "It's probably nothing" I thought, as I turned my head and my eyes were confronted with the largest moth I've ever seen. I imagine it to have been the size of my fist, but I am most likely exaggerating. I almost froze up with fear, but had enough presence of mind to call for Boyfriend to come rescue me from the winged menace.

Thank goodness for Boyfriend. If I'd had to handle it on my own I'm almost positive I would've thrown up all over the place. Instead I hid bravely under the blanket whilst yelling "take it away, take it away!!".

After Boyfriend captured the fiend in a glass with a magazine over, there was a moment where you could very audibly hear it flapping it's wings inside the glass (involuntary spasms are going down my back as I recollect it). This is the part of the movie that would be made in slow motion, and with every flap of the wings of the moth it would sound like a thousand birds taking flight.


Boyfriend just let it out of the bedroom window and closed the curtain, which naturally left me somewhat apprehensive in regards to whether or not it would manage/want to find it's way back into our home. Thankfully it did not.

Moths are nice, Boyfriend said, they're like butterflies. But they're NOT! They're like the anti-butterfly! Yes, I know technically they are from the same family, but where butterflies are colourful, beautiful, delicate and fragile, moths are fat, hairy, hideously ugly, disgusting, flying lumps.

And I'm damn well going to make sure the curtain is drawn at night from now on!

The laws of Property Improvement (™)

1. Your place of residence can always and must always be improved in some way. Never be satisfied with what you have.

2. If you're feeling blue, if you're feeling empty and like your life has no meaning, do not fear - salvation is near: just redecorate!

3. If your neighbour redecorates, so must you.

3.1. Remember to always wait until your neighbour is done redecorating, before you start your own project, so as to lengthen the period in which your other neighbours will be bothered by noise pollution. Maybe even wait a day, to let people remember what quiet sounds like, so they remember what they're missing.

4. Develop a sixth sense about when the worst possible time for you to start drilling is, for anyone else who can hear it, and then start drilling.

4.1. Lull your neighbours into a false sense of security by being quiet for several hours, and then start drilling or hammering as soon as their head hits the pillow, or better yet, just as they are about to drift off to sleep.

4.2. Start making loud noises as early in the morning as possible. This law is particularly important to follow if you know that any of your neighbours have been up late and/or drinking alcohol.

5. Once you're done with one project, realise that (for instance) your walls no longer go with your new floor, and start a new project. Repeat until death or dementia.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, for a deeper and quasi philosophical exploration of the themes in this text. Is it that we are constantly moving to new places, no longer able to settle down anywhere, that makes us redecorate? Are we always moving into new homes? Are we too concerned with what is new and what is in, and what everybody else has? Do we want to show of our wealth? Does it really have anything to do with comfort or convenience? Are we trying to fill a void in our lives, trying to convince ourselves that happiness can be bought? Are we hoping to improve ourselves by improving our homes? Are we trying to increase the value of our property? Are things just not built to last these days and need to be replaced too quickly? Have we regressed to some sort of caveman stage, where we can no longer speak to the people around us, and this constant noise making is a desperate last ditch attempt to create some sort of bond or connection with the people surrounding us?

As for the main theme of the above text, it is obvious: The author is tired and her neighbours are being noisy.

I'm not wearing sunglasses because I'm blind

So, here's the zen question for all you guys out there: If you can't see a woman's eyes, can she still tell you're staring at her cleavage?