The Attack of the Moth Beast From HELL OR Happy Thanksgiving to Insects OR Happy Thanksgiving to the Rest of You, Too!

In the last few years there's been an ongoing battle with a gigantic, enormous, beastly pest in my house.  (No, not HIM.  Although HIM, the man to whom I'm married, can be a pest, he isn't the pest of which I speak.)

Not cockroaches, silverfish, ants, or alien hordes from the Dagobah System.  (Okay, who got that reference?  Go ahead, admit you're a technogeek from the seventies.)

No, it's #$%@^&!!! moths.  Little vicious heifers called meal moths.



Apparently these fiends from hell get into various pantry food.  (Dry pet food, rice, cereal, anything not battened down with iron clippies that would make a dominatrix howl.)  They lay their little eggy vermin and then they take over your house.  (I was wondering who was TIVO-ing Desperate Housewives.)  Did I mention these little sh*theads are only 1/4 inch long, fully grown?

Well, they are.  1/4 inch FULLY FRICKIN' GROWN!!!


How to get rid of meal moths?  Pray, light your house on fire with napalm, and rebuild in Alaska, where hopefully the little f**kers can't follow you.  (No guarantees because they probably got into your luggage, so you should just burn all of your belongings and move into a hut in the wilderness instead.  Get used to wearing leaves.  Learn that adage: Leaves of three, leave it be.)


I have to clean out the pantry of anything that's open.  I did this four times already.  I have to spray the nooks and crannies with a special insecticide.  (Which sounds bad considering the area is a PANTRY, which allegedly contains foods that WE eat.  Chemicals near food we eat = badness or possibly a third arm growing out of my back-ness.)  Then I put out these little traps that emit pheromones and trap all the boy meal moths.  (The lady moths are going to be pissed with me.)


Finally, the creme de la creme.  We'll have to wait for NINETY #@$%^*!!!! days because that is how long the eggs might continue to hatch.


I'm told the rotten little bleep-bleep-bleeping-bleeps get their danders up and find other food sources until you get lazy with the cereal/catfood/whatever again.  So I have to put those little smell-good-to-boys traps in every room.  For ninety days.  Ad nauseam.

At least it's not bedbugs.  Did I mention we're eating out for Thanksgiving?  Possibly Chinese food.



Anyway, I'm thankful for free speech.  Also HIM, Cressy, my favorite relatives who read my novels, my sister, my blog, and the fact that I get to epublish pretty much what I want.  Screw the meal moths.  Life is good.

Happy Thanksgiving!