Owned By An Insect

I'm still working on a nice, long, hilarious blog post, and a thank you to Miss Zoe, but I would like you all to know that currently there is a score out there I must settle. It is as follows:

Moth: 1
Cassadee: 0

Yep, you read that correctly. A moth has indeed pulled one over on me.

I just want to start this post by saying that I am not a screamer. I maybe have screamed, and I mean really screamed from being scared, twice in my life. I just don't get that scared. I went to see The Uninvited with a group of ten, and while everyone is the theater was screaming and jumping, and my one friend was literally covering his eyes, I sat there and ate my kit-kat bar nonchalantly and didn't flinch. That's just me.

A few weeks ago, I found a page from one of my Bibles lying by itself in the middle of my floor. This was odd, because my Bibles are on my bookcase, squished in there, and it's not easy for a page to fly out without anyone touching it, but no one had been in there. However, I digress, because today was the day that I got around to cleaning things up and putting the page back in the Bible.

I went over, bent down, pulled it out off of the bookshelf, opened the Bible and a moth flew out. A moth. If you can explain to me how a moth got into the middle of the pages of the Bible, far more lived and flew out, I would appreciate that as much as if you can explain how the page hopped out of the Bible and landed six feet away on my floor.

Obviously, I wasn't expecting this moth, plus it felt it necessary to fly in my face. This caused me to scream and throw the Bible across the room. It took me a second to realize what happened, and then I just collapsed there in a ball of a laughter, gave the moth credit, and realized I was a wussy goober.

And since I explained that I never scream, you're probably wondering how my mom reacted. She didn't. She never came in to check on me. When she did finally come in it was a half an hour later. Apparently she never heard me scream. It's good to know if something actually is wrong, her ears don't pick up high pitched sounds, because our house is small. She should have heard me. The fact that she didn't is probably a good thing, because the way I figure it, I have another twelve years or so until I scream again. If I'm still living at home, no offense Mom, but we have a problem.