Skip to main content

She Ate My Moth

This morning I woke up with a funny feeling. I realized that I'd slept well and it's been several weeks since that happened. It was cool last night, which helped. But mostly I think my peaceful rest came from the fact that I wasn't awakened even once during the night by the cat. That's unusual but it didn't cause me any alarm until I found the mess downstairs. The cat greeted me, sitting on the counter with a very pleased look on her face.

She was too busy with a demolition derby to bother me last night. Something was shredded all over the floor. It was the same color as the carpet, but it wasn't pieces of carpet. I couldn't figure out what it was. It looked sort of like wood chips, but it was light and fragile. Also, a bunch of stuff that had been on the counter was on the floor, too: keys, business cards, change. It's like there was a party all night while I was upstairs asleep.

Another thing missing from the counter: the large, yellow moth I'd picked up on one of my walks a few days ago. It was long dead and dried out and I didn't know exactly what I was going to do with it. But it was a moth I'd never seen in this area before and it was beautiful so I thought I'd hold onto it for a few days, maybe take some photos and then see if Mike wanted to take even better photos of it. I'd left it on the porch but when it started raining a few days ago I brought it inside and tucked it into a corner of the counter.

The yellow flakes on the floor were bits of shredded moth wing. I'm disappointed about the moth's demise. But I'm even more annoyed by the fact that I have to drag out the big, unwieldy vacuum cleaner today. I really miss the Dust Buster (which is en route in our air freight from Burundi--Mike packed up the house this week!).

It's been Dullsville around here and I've generally been okay with the quiet, slow pace. If I wanted to break up the monotony, cleaning up moth bits is not how I envisioned doing that. The messes are only going to get weirder when there's a kid around, aren't they?

All that remains of my moth


Diane H K said…
It's the remnants of a Promethea silk moth, Callosamia promethea, and it was a female.

We used to raise them in CT; they are a native species. Their caterpillars are particularly fond of sassafras trees.

Popular posts from this blog

The Acid Bug

My blog will now join the short list of results that pop up when you search for "nairobi fly, acid bug" on Google. Mike was hit by one over the weekend.
The Nairobi fly is a small beetle that does not bite or sting, but based on its nickname acid bug, guess what it does? The insides of the bug are toxic, and if you smack it against your skin the juices cause a burning rash. They are common throughout East and Central Africa, and it's the season for them here in Burundi. We think Mike and his friend rode through a swarm of them on their bikes over the weekend, because his friend has some burn spots, too, and the spots appeared on both of them after they returned from the ride.
We've heard of two remedies to soothe the burning, but Mike hasn't tried either yet. One is to use toothpaste, the old-school white kind, and the other is to cut a potato and rub it on the burn area. Both the toothpaste and the potato are supposed to draw out the acid. If you wash the area imm…

What Goes Through My Head When I Lock My Door

When I'm alone in our apartment, or alone with Muffin, I lock the deadbolt, day and night. Here is my thought process:

I'm walking down the hallway toward my door. I nod "Hello" in a neighborly way to a man also walking down the hall. I enter my apartment (having had my key ready since I first got into the elevator because women are conditioned from an early age not to be fumbling for their keys in an area where the distraction of doing so might make them vulnerable to an attack) and close the door. I put my hand on the deadbolt but I don't turn it right away.

What if the guy who just walked by thinks I'm locking it because I'm afraid of him? 

It's not about him specifically, though, it's about being a woman alone in an apartment building. 

So what if he's offended? 

It's none of his business if I lock my door or not, unless he was planning to enter the apartment, in which case fuck him, I did the right thing by locking the door.

I'm a nar…

Book Review: Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places by Colin Dickey

After you've read something, please consider leaving a line or two on Goodreads and Amazon. The authors appreciate it!

Here's my review as it appears on Goodreads.

Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places by Colin Dickey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I really liked this book in the beginning. I grew up in an old haunted house in New England, yet I'm always a skeptic. (99% of supernatural activity ends up being the wind or a cat — and cats are creepy as hell.) I liked reading the stories behind the stories, whether they debunked the legends or gave credence to them. I’ve always been interested in history and nonfiction and ghost stories are the old “fake news.” Entertaining but you shouldn’t necessarily take them at face value. As the book went on, I found the stories themselves no less interesting but the format became tedious.

A couple of the stories really stood out to me. There are many cases of ghost stories being used to control a narrative that makes people feel sa…