About A Bug

You know that scene in Lord of the Rings when Gandalf is imprisoned on the top of Saruman's tower, and a moth flits by, and he captures it carefully in his hand and whispers a plead for help to said moth? That scene of the movie has always impressed me because, woah, he catches a moth WITH HIS BARE HANDS. And doesn't even crush the delicate little thing. Gandalf is a wizard, indeed.

Here's the thing: if that makes Gandalf an impressive, powerful wizard, then I must be one too. And Mike too. And Art even. Mike and Art's house, for some reason, has been taken over by moths. It started out with one, the Original Mothra (I even blogged about it here. Now they're everywhere, and they're attacking people. I'm still not sure what moths eat, so I don't know why they'd be flitting into our faces, but I'm sure they're confused and terrified and hungry.

Anyway, the other day, Mike wandered into the kitchen for a while, and came back with one of his hands balled up into a fist. He sat next to me, and opened the fist to reveal...a moth! In his bare hand! AMAZING!!! Then he convinced me to try it too, and I caught one for myself, and I was not nearly as impressed anymore. Moths are dumb, and I think they enjoy being imprisoned in human hands.

And then Art managed to catch one last night, just on a whim, and I lost all respect for them altogether. All they're doing now is flying in crazy circles, dive-bombing people kamikaze-style, or sitting on the ceiling, being boring. And they're drawing spiders, which cannot be tolerated. Giiiih.

But on the whole, I've been doing pretty well here in Virginia. The weather has become that hot, breathless, humid summer weather I love so much, and the fireflies have come out in droves. I watched them flickering splendidly in the trees last night as we drove along, and at that moment, I needed nothing more.