Like a Moth to a Flame

Now I realize that the lovely Laura just posted a blog with a similar title, but as you will soon find out my interpretation is slightly more-how shall I put it? Literal. Yes that's it. Very literal indeed.

Recently Chris has had some schedule changes at his job resulting in more days shifts than he previously worked. Noting all his positive attributes no doubt, management decided to move him from evenings to daytime since less people work during the day, so they need stronger employees to take such shifts. I'm very proud of him. He's only been working there about six months, and he's already considered senior staff. However I digress. The big benefit of this recent change is that our schedules are now much more compatible, and those rare elusive nights we get to spend together have become, thankfully, much less rare. It was on such a night that our story unfolds.

Relaxing one evening in my bedroom, I'm lying on my bed reading a book as Chris continues his ever dominance of world power via his adored computer game Total War. It's a warm summer night, so the window is pushed open to let whatever breeze is to be found into the room. Unfortunately a gigantic moth decides to breeze right in as well. Chris suddenly pushes his laptop to the side and frantically jumps to his feet, 'Oh my gosh! Baby look at the SIZE of that moth!' I glance up from my latest literary obsession-The Blind Side (on a side note this book is excellent, especially if you like football. My parents gave it to Chris for Christmas, and the movie version starring Sandra Bullock looks great too)- and quickly dismiss it's presence. Turning back to my reading I reply, 'Don't worry about it. It will find it's way out soon enough.' But Chris isn't having it. 'How can I kill it?' he asks roaming the room for potential weapons with his eyes. A few seconds later I look up and see him holding an aerosol deodorant can and begin to say that I doubt that will do the trick, but the words never leave my lips as I realize what's in his other hand-a lighter. 'Um, that's not a good idea.' I say half heartedly as I go back to my reading. Surely he won't be that stupid. I hear the woosh of spray emitting from the can. Not even looking up, 'I really think that's a bad idea.' Then the click of the lighter. My eyes pop up. 'Chris don't.' The torch finds expelled gas and ignites into the air. I have to admit, it's pretty cool. Like when you're a little kid and learn how to use matches for the first time. Chris exclaims 'I almost got him!' I sit enthralled, frozen for a few seconds, and a few seconds is all it takes. Chris gives the lighter another flick as he shoots the spray into the direction of the moth. Into the direction of the paper Chinese lampshade thingy covering the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. As the paper lantern ignites my mind starts to race-oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. The fire is going to ignite the electric wires and spread through the house and we're all going to die in the explosion. Our landlord is going to KILL us! In the thirty longest seconds of my life, Chris runs around screaming 'What do I do?!?! What do I do!?!' as I sit still frozen on the bed. Thankfully God had our stupid backs covered, and the flame extinguished itself after consuming the paper lantern. Sitting in my bed, with wisps of shriveled moth wings and ashen paper floating down around me I think, Damn. That moth must of really had it coming.