I hate washing up. This morning, elbow deep in soap suds, I wanted to sneeze (why does that always happen?). Milliseconds later a large moth fluttered by my nose and landed next to the dish rack.
I didn’t want he / she to get wet and impede take off, so I dried my hands and tried to catch her, to help her escape through the kitchen window.
She decided to play hard to get and fluttered off. Mindful that my “I like to snack on moths and stick insects” cat was hovering, watching the proceedings, I knew I couldn’t leave moth-brain to herself. She was now basking in the shade on a piece of wall too high for me to access. What to do? I have a gammy leg at the moment, and wouldn’t trust myself to stand on a chair.
Enter stage right, large yellow feather duster. Ah yes, the perfect way to collect a moth. She dutifully hopped on a feather and enjoyed the ride down to my nose level. After saying a fond farewell, we parted, she through the gap in the kitchen window, and me, back to my soapsuds.
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