a series of unfortunate events

do you know what the absolute worst part about summer is? not the fact that it's almost 100 degrees here all week and our A/C equals one window fan in our bedroom and our basement. a basement is not a suitable substitute for A/C, ya'll.

no. the worst part about summer is the moths. what is the purpose of these creatures anyway? there are approximately 9142850423 other bug species for birds to feed on. i think they'll survive if we take one away.

every night evan and i go on a moth murder spree in our home. and heaven help us if we come home after dark because fifty billion moths attack our garage light and we have to bat them away as we try and wrangle the car seat out of the car and make it inside without letting one (or 50) of those vile creatures into our house. and then we have to spend 45 minutes killing all the moths because the second you think you've got them all, four more materialize out of thin air. they're basically the equivalent of that dragon monster thing with the heads in hercules.

here's something you should know about me: i'm terrified of flyswatters. i have this irrational fear that the germs from the previous bugs you smashed with that thing, multiply and creep down the handle. so, every time you swing that thing through the air, bug guts and germs and disease goes flying through your house. i have to put all food and drink away before i can kill a bug with that thing. and evan just acts like it ain't no thang and whips that thing around infecting every surface of our home with dead flies and moths. ew. just, ew.

i'm getting so distracted.

LAST NIGHT. last night i got up to get a drink of water and FIVE moths were flittering around my dining room light. flittering is probably not a correct description as they were more or less head butting my light bulb and making that god-awful noise moths make when they ram their beady little brainless heads against a hot light. (by the way, how does this not kill them? they are demon spawn.)

so i got out the disgusting flyswatter and basically did my best psycho impression on that family of moths. in the process i broke my dining room light and managed to smear moth dust on my ceiling, of which i am not tall enough to reach to clean and climbing a ladder is a whole different fear we can talk about tomorrow.

i slayed them all and was going to just leave their furry little bodies on the ground for evan because as this was happening and i was screaming each time a moth dive-bombed my face, he was laying in bed laughing at me. so i was going to leave them as a present. because that's how nice i can be sometimes.

but i decided to sweep them up because what would probably happen is i would get up again for another glass of water and i would step on one or five of their little furry dusty bodies and that's just gross. so i cleaned them up. i also like to let them suffer (like the other day one idiot flew into my water glass so i let it drown.) so i watched the antenna twitch on one and thought that was the only semi-alive one.

I. WAS. WRONG.

when i scooped it into the dustpan i flipped it from it's back to it's front and it was all, "hey, JK! i'm alive! thanks for putting me right-side-up so i can ruin your life some more!" so i threw it in the trash real quick and slammed the lid. it was definitely going to get poisoned by the raw chicken juice in my trash and die and violent death.

BUT THEN. i turned out to be an idiot. i saw a piece of paper on the ground next to the trash can. A PIECE OF FLIPPING PAPER. i picked it up and opened the trash can and out flew that dang trickster moth. of course it couldn't just fly out and go on its merry little way only to be struck down in a few hours by spontaneous cardiac arrest from my earlier swat. no. it had to fly right into my hand and hang out for at least a second, getting it's gross moth dust all over me.

then i went to the bathroom before going back to bed and i felt a little something something on my arm. i thought it was the moth and if i carried the moth on my arm from my kitchen to my bathroom i was going to flip. out. but no. it was worse. it was a spider. a spider on my arm. so i screamed. evan came running (good to know i have to scream like 64 times before he'll check on me) but i was essentially fine. i mean, if you count curling into the fetal position in the corner, "fine." what's the worst though is that i couldn't find the spider after i knocked it off me. and where the heckfire did it come from anyway?

i've successfully discussed three of my biggest fears in this post. but really, you can't categorize my fears because they're all irrational and ridiculous and equally as terrifying.

evan thinks it's "cool" to catch moths in his hands and then kill them. i do not. what's also not cool is the fact that the tiny space between my glass front door and my wood front door is home to about 50 bajillion moths and you can't go in or out without being assaulted. i need to perform a moth exorcism on my house.

did you also know that you can be allergic to moths? well you can and i am.

and here's an adorable picture of maddox so you can think about him instead of those gross moths. it's like watching a scary movie before bed. except this is real life. so: cute baby who loves his hands but has to use both to suck on just one. adorable.