My husband is the worst moth killer ever.
I'm very good at my part of the moth killing job. I see the moth. I jump and point. I yell, "It's a moth! Get some toilet paper. Kill it! KILL IT! HURRY!"
Husband takes FOREVER getting toilet paper while I have to watch the moth and wait and wait and wait.
So then, by the time Husband comes back, it has MOVED.
I really hate it when bugs move. It's creepy.
When the moth killing is finally a go, Husband starts swinging his arms wildly. Probably because the moth is flying at his face. I've learned to leave the room because he doesn't even care if he makes the moth go flying right at MY face. It's rude. And creepy.
And then most of the time he can't find the moth after he's been flinging his arms around, because it's sort of impossible to watch a moth and swing at a moth at the same time. Or so Husband tells me.
So then I have to cower in my room and type things on my blog. Because the moth is still at large in the other room.
Literally, 3 minutes after I hit "publish" Husband came into our room. And he's like, "I just wanted to let you know that I caught the moth, see..."
AND THEN HE OPENED UP SOME TOILET PAPER IN HIS HAND AND THE MOTH FLEW OUT!
And then he started swinging his arms and lost it again. In MY BEDROOM. Where my bed is. How am I ever supposed to sleep in there without having creepy moth dreams?!
Plus, now I'm cowering in the other room while me room is all moth-at-large-y.