An event happened last Thursday, prior to the U2 concert. An event so traumatic that I had to forcibly wall it up in my mind to get through the rest of the day without simply collapsing into a stuttering heap on the pavement. I can barely recount it now without feeling tingles along my neck, in my hair, along the backs of my arms…
It was a beautiful day. It was such a beautiful day that I thought I’d take a walk at lunch along the treed side streets, instead of the noisy main drag, as I made my way toward a clutch of restaurants. Leaves and blossoms fluttered down around me as I wandered down the road, eyes to the sky and proverbial spring in my step.
I passed a random woman on my way and she gave me a screamingly-obvious pained look. What-freaking-ever. It was a beautiful day and I had U2 tickets.
I turned the corner and looked down – at something on the sidewalk, toward my purse or perhaps at a pigeon in the grass. I have no recollection anymore of what initially caught my eye. The only things I ended up seeing were two large yellow hairy eyeballs and a set of nasty mandibles. A large (and no doubt, hungry) tree-coloured moth was making its way up my shirt. The vile thing had tricked me earlier by looking like floating foliage.
I then did, as any sane person would, the holy-shit-get-this-thing-off-me dance, much to the consternation and amusement of every other pedestrian within a three block radius.
Too shaky to continue, I settled into the nearest restaurant and contemplated whether I’d actually rid myself of the six-legged demon or whether I’d simply knocked it into my purse (why, oh why, did I have to get the ever-so-cute snap purse without a secure, but not-so-cute, zipper??).
I spent the majority of my lunch kicking my purse on the seat across from me to see if anything launched out at me, before having to stick a tentative hand in to pay at the end of my meal. No moth. I damn near wept.
After recent events, I’m starting to think this is a conspiracy. I only just realized that Marlo Girl commented on my last moth post and that (YAY!) my mother and I have company in our “irrational” fear. Irrational. Yeah. Just think about it a little more the next time one of their viscous, flailing bodies “accidentally” slams into you.
Here’s to a week of nothing with more than four legs and avoiding bright lights in the dark.