Moths

Moths might sound like a strange topic to be discussing but moths and I have a non alignment. After pondering this strange 'phobia' of mine I have decided it began when I was around nine years old. I had been banished to the kitchen to eat my meals as I was too messy to eat in the lounge room. So as not to appear too biased, my older brother was made to eat with me. My Mummy was not the best of cooks and stuck to a standard menu. One meal on this menu was tripe! I have never been overly keen on meat and this excursion into the inside of an animal was more than I could stomach. I did try but it was immediately expelled back onto the plate. I was somewhat of a precocious child, headstrong and independent. My father was a Sergeant Major in the Army; I was born a hippie - we clashed big time. My Mummy did what she was told; he also used physical discipline past acceptable limits. She has never spoken of it but I was told by my dearest darling Aunt that if she interfered too much he would take it out on her later so she allowed a certain level to protect herself so that she was able to protect us a little. He was away alot so it wasn't all bad and there were great times. I do not hold any anger for him only compassion; he ended life when he was fifty.

Back to moths and tripe. This dish was served often, as I remember it, but most likely not as much asthat. I was striving to consume this foul food when a moth dive bombed this disgusting white rubbery stuff floating in white sauce. It struggled depositing it's dust in a trail behind it.  That was the end of my attempt to eat this meal. I learnt to chop this vileness into small pieces and deposit it outside the kitchen window later ensuring it was well dug into the flower garden. My Mummy grew gerberas there and was always pleased at her success. Many, many years later I confessed my actions. She said she had always wondered why they grew so well but thought it was humourous.

My skin crawling encounters with moths have continued through my life. It is something that was so silly and it happened when I was young so I had kept it to myself forever. In my later years and comfortableness with my quirkiness I told Peter. He thought I was having him on but there have been too many examples of moths picking on me for him to remain a non believer.

What a strange creature to have a non alignment with. An example of this attraction is the other night. I had settled in bed but all I could hear was this moth. I thought it must be at the window wanting to get out so I got up and pushed the window open shooing around the window, closed it, settled again. No the beating was still going. It couldn't be on the floor or Munchiekimba would be sorting it out. Finally I got my torch and found this tiny moth on the edge of the dresser going nuts!

a few days later ....

The night I wrote the above, I was putting toothpaste on my brush, as I put the tube down this moth kamikaze'd into my toothpaste! Peter could not believe it.

I think that the moths did not like me writing about our 'thing'.