The boyfriend rolled over and spoke. It was early on a Saturday morning and the light was filtered through the trees already. The early morning runners were making their way up the street outside, as it is their main path from ParkHill to Cheesman Park. The kind of chats that happen when two people take their bikes and head out for an adventure were wafting into the open window. The day had begun and, it appeared soon we would begin ours.
"Where's the cat? She never came to bed last night?" He said. I groaned as I rolled from bed. I feared we locked her out on the balcony the previous night. I pictured the long-haired floofster in full diva mode after spending a night on the patio. We would pay the price for this transgression, that's for sure. But, as I rounded the corner into the living room I noticed a different situation. Lamps toppled, their shades knocked out of wack. Items previously on tables scattered everywhere. And, in the middle of it all, the fluffy princess, staring intensely to the ceiling. A moth staring bake in mocking tone.
The common Miller Moth has an annual migration originating on the Plains of Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska and migrating west into the Rocky Mountains for the summer. They return to the Plains in September. I guess they take their summers in the mountains, I mean who wouldn't? Although it is an annual event every ten years or so the numbers are massive due to the change in climate. This year the numbers are massive.
So if I can list them, we have a Pandemic, the Race War, and the icing on the cake is this swarms of insects? That's really all the signs of the apocalypse, right? I mean our local IKEA is also closed so I can't buy a new sofa and this may be the fourth sign. I personally think that is the signal for Demi Moore to die, Right?
I approach the kitty and notice deep bags under her eyes, and an ashtray filled with burnt-out cat cigarettes. She's mumbling about the moths.... "I'm gonnnaaaa get eweeeee.... eat your wings..... killlllll moths." Incomprehensible really. Poor thing staying up all night to capture a moth, knowing it will never fly down from the ceiling. The boyfriend swooped up kitty and I got out the vacuum to suck up the dusty-winged intruder. The cat still declares loudly to us how "she could of got it!" as we nod our heads in agreement. All the while hoping these weird times we are living in, clears up soon.
"Where's the cat? She never came to bed last night?" He said. I groaned as I rolled from bed. I feared we locked her out on the balcony the previous night. I pictured the long-haired floofster in full diva mode after spending a night on the patio. We would pay the price for this transgression, that's for sure. But, as I rounded the corner into the living room I noticed a different situation. Lamps toppled, their shades knocked out of wack. Items previously on tables scattered everywhere. And, in the middle of it all, the fluffy princess, staring intensely to the ceiling. A moth staring bake in mocking tone.
The common Miller Moth has an annual migration originating on the Plains of Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska and migrating west into the Rocky Mountains for the summer. They return to the Plains in September. I guess they take their summers in the mountains, I mean who wouldn't? Although it is an annual event every ten years or so the numbers are massive due to the change in climate. This year the numbers are massive.
So if I can list them, we have a Pandemic, the Race War, and the icing on the cake is this swarms of insects? That's really all the signs of the apocalypse, right? I mean our local IKEA is also closed so I can't buy a new sofa and this may be the fourth sign. I personally think that is the signal for Demi Moore to die, Right?
I approach the kitty and notice deep bags under her eyes, and an ashtray filled with burnt-out cat cigarettes. She's mumbling about the moths.... "I'm gonnnaaaa get eweeeee.... eat your wings..... killlllll moths." Incomprehensible really. Poor thing staying up all night to capture a moth, knowing it will never fly down from the ceiling. The boyfriend swooped up kitty and I got out the vacuum to suck up the dusty-winged intruder. The cat still declares loudly to us how "she could of got it!" as we nod our heads in agreement. All the while hoping these weird times we are living in, clears up soon.
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