I am uneasy. Scratch that - I am completely paranoid. I am jumping at every shadow and flinching at every real or imagined movement seen at the edge of my vision. And what was it that caused this paranoia? A moth.
I'm sure I've mentioned, once or twice, my hatred of moths but in all fairness, this was a big moth. Huge, actually. And before you say I'm exaggerating, I should tell you that this was a one-eyed sphinx. (This thing has a five inch wingspan.) I had never even heard of this moth before and I hope to never have the misfortune of coming across one again. Ever. It was a huge, fat, ugly moth hanging onto the screen door in the kitchen. The outside of the screen door in the kitchen - this key fact was the only thing keeping me from going into a complete screaming panic. Not that I didn't do at least a little screaming - believe me, I did - but I didn't abandon the house and file a change of address form with the post office listing a local hotel as my new residence.
So there we were, with a moth perched precariously on the only door that allows the dogs access to the outdoors at night to go to the bathroom. It would take only a second or two for the moth to disengage from the screen and fly through the doorway into the kitchen as one of the dogs came or went. So we did the only thing we could to ensure that the moth would stay out of the house. We trapped it in a peanut butter jar. I should say that I am a proud supporter of PETA, but in this case, I could care less about the rights of moths, so long as I was guaranteed a house free of roaming one-eyed sphinxes. Should the moth have gotten in and then disappeared somewhere in the house we probably would have had to move. No amount of money could induce me to live in a house with that moth hiding in it.
To maintain my peace of mind, the next morning I took the jar - still tightly lidded - and hid it somewhere in the neighborhood. I really can't be any more specific as to the location of the moth as there is considerable risk my brother would decide to go and liberate it should he ascertain its location. And I really cannot give the moth the chance to either a) return to our house and/or b) mate and reproduce, creating a multitude of huge, ugly, fat moths to torment me. But if it makes you feel any better, I did make sure to put it somewhere very shady so that it at least would not bake to death.
Unfortunately, a little research turned up the fact that this part of the country is part of the native territory of the one-eyed sphinx. Which means, of course, that there could be more out there, just waiting for me to drop my guard before popping out when I least expect it. So for now, I'm jumping at every shadow and flinching at every movement seen at the edge of my vision - real or imagined.