When ever I write an article, I look at it the next day and wonder if I was drunk. This one was an example of that. I'll try to fix it. Sorry.
Why, you might ask, do moths hate us? My theory is that Moths (We call them millers here.) are mad because of the movie Mothra, starring Godzilla. I can't seem to make it clear to them that I had nothing to do with the making of Mothra. Only the radioactive twin girls in the movie can communicate with moths. The movie was so bad that the millers will probably be mad at humans forever. I know I was for a long time after seeing the movie.
The hordes of millers are huge, to the point of being surreal. It's like Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, only moths don't rip your face off or pluck out your eyeballs.
Millers don't scare me like they used to. I've learned to accept the inevitable. As an ecologically minded human being, my first reaction to millers is to smack them with an unabridged dictionary. When I was younger they helped me win the 'scream like a girl' contest at Molholm Elementary, mostly because they're gross and partly because your peripheral vision is always telling you to duck. If you're six and it's nighttime, there is no way of telling that it's not Dracula trying to sneak up on you.
Never hit one against the wall or a curtain because you will incur the miller curse of grey and brown dusty streaks, not to mention the wrath of your wife.
As you can see, Millers are not exactly candidates for the bug world's chapter of MENSA, bugs, being defined as pretty much anything in your house that dies when you stomp on it. Millers are more like the Forest Gumps of nature.
Well, I suppose I've ranted enough about millers, so laters.
Hey! Is that a miller in my beer? How did it get in there!?