|
I remember being at my parents' house awhile back and both my parents were dashing around swatting at little moths like insane people. If one little moth was spotted, they were both out of their seats, jumping after it, chasing it down the stairs to the basement like cheetahs after a gazelle. It was ridiculous. And being the incredibly discreet manners-goddess that I am, I'm sure I said so at the time. "You people are a bunch of flakes. Can't we have some form of civilized dining with you without this ridiculous safari going on at the same time?" or some equivalent delicate repartee. So, then in the fall, Mom and Dad are here and I open my big cabinet in the kitchen/kennel/laundry/rooster area and a little moth flies out and my mom's eyes turn red and she hisses--"YouhaveMOTHS!" and she's on it like white on rice. And I say something like, "yeah, I know. But, I do not have time to deal with that right now." And I shut the door to the So then, I have the moth situation the day before Christmas, which I have already blogged about. And it still continues. My little moth traps from Lowes, that cost $5 for two little pieces of sticky cardboard, which #3 could have made at home as a nature study project, have caught a total of two moths. Two moths is two weeks. Meantime, I have smashed four moths and wiped out multiple desicated corpses. So I open the Rubbermaid container holding two bags of twisted, clipped rice and one bag of rubber-banded barley. The rice has lots and lots of teeny weeny dust particles in it. This doesn't seem normal and then I notice the tell-tale webbing in the bag and then as I unclip the bag, I notice the telltale larvae/grub things clinging to the plastic bag. Then I notice that the rubbermaid lid is coated with webbing. Oh, I get it! I trapped the moths in the Rubbermaid to set up housekeeping with enough food to keep them going for 2000 generations! Great. Then I notice that the moths can eat through any and all plastic bags. So now I am throwing out un-opened bags of rice, because there are tell-tale little holes with tell-tale little moth teethmarks around the edges and tell-tale little wormy things that I can pop with my fingers, but really prefer not to. Well, animal rights activists, I hate to tell you this--But, I started hauling all their sorry little grub-butts out to the compost bin. I figure they can just tough out January in the compost. I figure if your little body is the diameter of a coated paper clip, your life expectancy out there is about 3.5 minutes, and that just makes me I have a great idea! It's going down to zero tonight, so Sir John, the rooster, will be joining us in the kitchen for several days--I'll just put him in the cabinet with the food. He can scare the doodee out of the moths. Oh, forgot--he's almost blind. Blind rooster--closed cabinet full of food--probably not. I'll just have to chase those suckers down and kill them as often as possible. I wonder if my mom would come home from Florida to help me? |
Comments
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by Anonymous
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by