For two nights now my bedroom has become nothing less than a battle field. Me against a solem moth. That nameless enemy has taken a number of dives at me in my armour (pjamas!) where i’ve had to retreat under my duvet, certianly like a coward. There’s nothing I can really do under my sheets but wait. Adrenaline beating my nerves like a skinned drum. I see it flying above me, ready to attack at any moment so I grab my water spray- if it dared to take a dive i’d show it what i’m made of! Arms as far out as possible I squirted the moth: again and again but it never gave in. It certainly had a grand plan of attack. The moth would pretend to exit through the door, I would close it. I should have known, the moth wasn’t going anywhere and it darted for me. It could read me like a book, apparently. There was nothing I could do but greet my safety cover. Greet is rather an understatement for plunging and screaming until I was out of sight, but it did become apparent I was getting rather acquainted with under my sheets.

I suspect it will be the same tonight. I’ll meet my old enemy, and I shall play out a series of events that would make even the proudest man look like an utter fool.

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