I hate them. I cannot tell you how much I hate them. While I no longer shriek with fear when I get dive-bombed by the stupid things, I will still leap buildings in a single bound to avoid them.
Due to the high winds we had a couple of weeks ago, a migrating plague of moths got blown into Melbourne. Into my office. Into my house. Chief Brody thinks it’s great, he’s got a unlimited supply of canapés. What isn’t so great is when he brings one into the house to play with before eating. Particularly when one is bigger than his head like it was on Friday. A big ginger one, the same colour has him with four separate wings, (no I don’t know the name of it, I’m not going to look it up). Or the cat lets one go in the bedroom and it flutters past my head. Or in the living room, so when he foofs it into the cream carpet (technical term) it leaves a dusty mark. Or when I’m washing my hair and one appears in the shower and I get water all over the bathroom. Or opening a file and one flies out. Or opening a drawer and another flies out. Or when one flies up my trouser leg like it did today. Ministry of silly walks, bouncing around, stomp, stomp, stomp, got rid of it. The heart palpitations took a little longer to resolve. My desk and chair is now fumigated with moth spray to try and give me a circle of protection from the sodding things.
Living in Australia, you get used to creepy-crawlies (to a degree). Peanut found a baby huntsman in the house the other day, and brought it into our bedroom, mostly mangled, saying ‘Spider!’ Meg and Mog is all the rage at the moment, he loves the books and the little cartoons that can be found on youtube. When Hubs found a spider in the bath yesterday, he took Peanut to view it and let it walk over his hands. I lived in a thatched cottage for a while in the UK, that sorted out my spider issues, but moths? I can’t get past fluttering things, no matter how hard I try.
Anything you lot have a completely irrational fear of?