Death by Mango Yogurt

My lovely roommate and I leave our window open most nights. We find that it helps filter out any un-ladylike smells that drift in from the restroom next door. This of course has meant that we often receive six and eight legged visitors on our walls or under our wardrobes. Naturally the unexpected guests are aware that the exploration of our room comes with a great degree of risk to their well being; but they seem to be no more aware of the finite nature of their lives than any human.

But I digress. 

(Sometimes I like to digress just so I can say the word. As Peter Pan would say, "Oh the cleverness of me!")

Today as I was cleaning the room I found a little dead moth. It had drowned in the leftovers of this morning’s yogurt. If it were a spider, well, I’m a bit judgmental when it comes to that race of creepy crawlys.

Being a moth and not a spider, I was sad that I didn’t get to rescue the furry thing. Why do people smash them?

I have always had a soft spot for moths. (among many other critters)

The way I see it, moths are just misunderstood butterflies.

Too bad I have trouble adopting this sort of compassion for the majority of human moths in my life.

✉

illustration credit where it's due: