I get it. It’s just a moth. They don’t bite. I KNOW this. And yet, something about a gray, furry-bodied insect the size of a small dog fluttering around my bathroom isn’t pleasant to me. I don’t like the fact that it thinks it can just waltz into my place, taunt my cats and perch on my wall in a threatening manner. It’s rude and I shouldn’t have to put up with it. But I did. For 30 minutes this morning I was its bitch. I let him have free-range of the bathroom because 1) it’s a LARGE INSECT WITH FUR, and 2) it flies. At two in the morning there aren’t any on-call exterminators willing to come escort one ugly moth out of an irrational woman’s bathroom, and I can’t kill it personally because I feel like that would bring bad karma.

My cats eventually cornered it in the shower where it escaped by -I’m serious here – disappearing into thin air. I shook the shower curtain and inspected every inch of the tub. Gone. I was skeptical, but I was also late for work, so against my better judgment I turned on the water and got in.

Yes, it reappeared half way through my shower. As I reached for the shampoo there it was, silently squatting on the bottle, awkward and menacing like the creep in the corner at a party. I imagine it had been sitting there the entire time. I’m not gonna go into detail about my cartoonish plunge from the tub. The bruises will heal and the shower curtain can be easily replaced.

I ended up being 30 minutes late to work. Because of a moth. When I voiced it out loud (“Sorry I’m late, there was a moth in my bathroom.”) it really drove home the sheer silliness of my fear. It’s a moth. It won’t bite. So I will keep telling myself this when I go home today and confront it. Stupid moth.

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