Murder

Sometimes I murder a moth inside my bedroom.

This is because moths are ugly and dusty and ugly.

This is also because I don’t want a nasty dusty moth trying to make its home inside my mouth while I am sleeping (or while I’m awake for that matter).

So last night when I walked into my room only to discover one of the dusty little beasts I panicked.  Swiped my hand through the air to disrupt its flight pattern and smashed it with a bottle of laundry detergent.

Not because I particularly enjoy having moth guts smeared all over the bottom of my detergent.

But because I was in a weakened mental state . . . . and that’s all I could find.

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