A Great and Melodramatic Conflict.
I almost got driven from my room by a moth last night. I don't mean in the "Ew, there's an insect in my general vicinity! *shrieks and flees*" sense. Nope, I'm not one to freak out over bugs. I find them fascinating, often pretty, I've had pet crickets, pet snakes-who-eat-crickets (erm... not at the same time), and I'm pretty much the go-to person when bugs, frogs, and other such creepy-crawlies somehow make their way inside.
Bugs outside are great and interesting. Bugs inside, generally not so much. I draw the line at them being in my bed. Not cool. Especially when it's dark, and I don't have my glasses and am therefore feeling a bit vulnerable and off-balance as it is.
But all that's just set up for what happened last night.
There was a moth flying around our room as we were getting ready for bed. A stupidly big one. Which might have been more interesting, except that it didn't sound like a moth... it sounded like a gigantic, angry bee. Or a demented hummingbird. (What? I know a demented hummingbird when I hear one.) It was keeping up by the ceiling, wouldn't go anywhere where I could catch it, kill it, or herd it out of the room.
But eh, it's probably just excited by the lights. And it's not like moths are malevolent, right? So I just turn on a light away from my bed, wait for the moth to go to a different part of the room, turn off the lights, and figure it'll probably settle down soon, or go bang against the windows once they're the biggest light source.
I like moths. They're pretty, and cute, and often fascinating. But when they're flying, they turn into the stupidest drunk drivers ever. All crazy loop-de-loops and running into everything, and going everywhere except a remotely sensible, helpful direction. But after a few minutes of insane buzzing and bumping into the ceiling, the curtains, the bookcase, the walls, the vents, etc., it apparently decides to put down the beer and sleep it off. Yay, quiet! All's well with the world, and I start to drift off.
And then... there's a surprisingly loud thud very close to my head. After a split second for my half-asleep brain to catch up with the sound, I'm bolt upright, flailing, light's on... And yes. Yes, that thing is crawling around on my pillow.
At which point my reaction pretty much goes to aasdfhdjslkafhdajskKill-It-With-Fire.
Only it takes off again now that the light's on, and is once more out of reach, bumping into everything it can find up by the ceiling. Lovely. If I had had a blowtorch, I probably would have happily turned it on the thing, never mind the damage to the house. But I can't get to it. And by now it's about one in the morning, so I can't very well call for taller backup. So when it finally gets far away from my bed and settles again, I go back to bed.
And the thing is still buzzing around in the dark like a demented, drunken bumblebee-hummingbird hybrid. It's not long before I am literally praying that it will just sleep, or get low enough for the cat to catch it, or just miraculously drop dead. But no.
I finally relax enough to ignore it and start to fall asleep again. And then... there is another highly suspicious thud within a couple feet of my head and the buzzing's stopped. I'm up again, and Neffie gets the light on, but of course now there's absolutely no sign of it.
So I grab my pillow and my robe, and say fine, I'm going to go sleep on the couch tonight. I figured if the thing wants to chase me, great - let's see it search the whole house for me. Good luck. I'll just laugh and hope it gets lost in the pump room somewhere. (Obviously, I was feeling somewhat irrationally vindictive as well as tired at that point. It's possible the two are somehow connected.)
Buuuut... Nef wasn't exactly happy with that idea, and said if I abandoned her alone with the crazy moth she'd definitely get no more sleep for the rest of the night. It hadn't shown any interest in her thus far, but with me gone it might think she was an acceptable substitute.
I reluctantly searched through my blankets and, finding no sign of it whatsoever, settled back in bed even more reluctantly, having no idea where it might've crawled off to. This was not the kind of moth that gets smushed and dies a quiet death in a pile of shiny, delicate wing dust if you drop a blanket on it. No, it's the sort of big insect that crunches like bones and makes you go D: when you hit it.
Needless to say, I was more than a little twitchy after that, and kept jerking awake every time a sheet brushed my face or leg, or I thought I heard rustling somewhere in the room.
So now I'm feeling tired and sleep-deprived and making a ridiculously long LJ post. All because someone apparently decided it'd be a good idea to send the most moronic wannabe-assassin moth in the history of ever to attempt to smother me in my sleep with its prodigious wing dust. Or something.
I'd hoped I could deal with it this morning, but I haven't seen it anywhere today. I'm afraid it's nursing its hangover and its grudge in a dark corner behind my bed somewhere, waiting for me to go to sleep so it can make another attempt. ;_;
Bugs outside are great and interesting. Bugs inside, generally not so much. I draw the line at them being in my bed. Not cool. Especially when it's dark, and I don't have my glasses and am therefore feeling a bit vulnerable and off-balance as it is.
But all that's just set up for what happened last night.
There was a moth flying around our room as we were getting ready for bed. A stupidly big one. Which might have been more interesting, except that it didn't sound like a moth... it sounded like a gigantic, angry bee. Or a demented hummingbird. (What? I know a demented hummingbird when I hear one.) It was keeping up by the ceiling, wouldn't go anywhere where I could catch it, kill it, or herd it out of the room.
But eh, it's probably just excited by the lights. And it's not like moths are malevolent, right? So I just turn on a light away from my bed, wait for the moth to go to a different part of the room, turn off the lights, and figure it'll probably settle down soon, or go bang against the windows once they're the biggest light source.
I like moths. They're pretty, and cute, and often fascinating. But when they're flying, they turn into the stupidest drunk drivers ever. All crazy loop-de-loops and running into everything, and going everywhere except a remotely sensible, helpful direction. But after a few minutes of insane buzzing and bumping into the ceiling, the curtains, the bookcase, the walls, the vents, etc., it apparently decides to put down the beer and sleep it off. Yay, quiet! All's well with the world, and I start to drift off.
And then... there's a surprisingly loud thud very close to my head. After a split second for my half-asleep brain to catch up with the sound, I'm bolt upright, flailing, light's on... And yes. Yes, that thing is crawling around on my pillow.
At which point my reaction pretty much goes to aasdfhdjslkafhdajskKill-It-With-Fire.
Only it takes off again now that the light's on, and is once more out of reach, bumping into everything it can find up by the ceiling. Lovely. If I had had a blowtorch, I probably would have happily turned it on the thing, never mind the damage to the house. But I can't get to it. And by now it's about one in the morning, so I can't very well call for taller backup. So when it finally gets far away from my bed and settles again, I go back to bed.
And the thing is still buzzing around in the dark like a demented, drunken bumblebee-hummingbird hybrid. It's not long before I am literally praying that it will just sleep, or get low enough for the cat to catch it, or just miraculously drop dead. But no.
I finally relax enough to ignore it and start to fall asleep again. And then... there is another highly suspicious thud within a couple feet of my head and the buzzing's stopped. I'm up again, and Neffie gets the light on, but of course now there's absolutely no sign of it.
So I grab my pillow and my robe, and say fine, I'm going to go sleep on the couch tonight. I figured if the thing wants to chase me, great - let's see it search the whole house for me. Good luck. I'll just laugh and hope it gets lost in the pump room somewhere. (Obviously, I was feeling somewhat irrationally vindictive as well as tired at that point. It's possible the two are somehow connected.)
Buuuut... Nef wasn't exactly happy with that idea, and said if I abandoned her alone with the crazy moth she'd definitely get no more sleep for the rest of the night. It hadn't shown any interest in her thus far, but with me gone it might think she was an acceptable substitute.
I reluctantly searched through my blankets and, finding no sign of it whatsoever, settled back in bed even more reluctantly, having no idea where it might've crawled off to. This was not the kind of moth that gets smushed and dies a quiet death in a pile of shiny, delicate wing dust if you drop a blanket on it. No, it's the sort of big insect that crunches like bones and makes you go D: when you hit it.
Needless to say, I was more than a little twitchy after that, and kept jerking awake every time a sheet brushed my face or leg, or I thought I heard rustling somewhere in the room.
So now I'm feeling tired and sleep-deprived and making a ridiculously long LJ post. All because someone apparently decided it'd be a good idea to send the most moronic wannabe-assassin moth in the history of ever to attempt to smother me in my sleep with its prodigious wing dust. Or something.
I'd hoped I could deal with it this morning, but I haven't seen it anywhere today. I'm afraid it's nursing its hangover and its grudge in a dark corner behind my bed somewhere, waiting for me to go to sleep so it can make another attempt. ;_;