Well. Turns out my job as Chief Spider Relocation Engineer has more responsibilities. It now includes moths.
“It’s not like it’s got sharp little teeth, or a stinger,” I said, matter-of-factly, as the tiny insect flapped about on the ceiling. Unbelievably, my choice of words there didn’t help the situation.
Moments later I was flailing around the room with a yoghurt pot and a piece of kitchen roll, wondering why moths like the high ceiling so much. Sammy said I should turn all the lights out, which I didn’t think would help… until I realised that she meant the moth might be being drawn to the bulb.
I switched on my phone torch instead. It always amazes me how bright it is, and once again the room was white and black with light and shadow. The moth flicked contentedly in the corner.
For a while I wondered how long I’d be dancing about there, while the moth happily explored the ceiling. All night? There are better ways to spend the early hours of the morning, in my opinion. I said so too.
In the end, the brilliant light of the iPhone 12 (positioned outside the room) drew out the moth from within it, and I quickly shut the door, instantly plunging the bedroom into total darkness, save for a thin crack of white around the doorframe.
I had half a suspicion that Mothy might sneak back in again when I went to get my phone, but thankfully it didn’t.
So the Chief Spider Relocation Engineer (who admittedly has relocated spiders that are tinier than he ever imagined) now needs a new job title. Arachnid and Lepidoptera Deliverance Minister? Moth and Spider Rehoming Expert?
This morning, I woke up early, thanks to dreaming about something random, and opened my bleary eyes to a chilly, grey, pre-dawn bedroom. Sammy was fast asleep.
Meanwhile, behind the curtains, a wasp was angrily buzzing as it tried to find the open window.
I rolled over and went back to sleep.
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