Not today but yesterday

Not today but yesterday, I woke up with moths all through my hair. Well, I thought I woke up — but it turns out I was still dreaming.

But today I ACTUALLY woke up with moths in my hair. It was horrific. They must have come in through the hole in the flyscreen while I was sleeping.

I think they were bogong moths. Those things are everywhere lately, and we’re supposed to be glad about it and “not interfere” with them. They’re endangered, and that means the critters that depend on them are also becoming endangered.

Well I tell you what else is endangered: my sanity.

So what happened? Well this. I felt like there was something moving around on my head. I immediately dismissed that thought, because of the dream from the day before.

But when I get down to the kitchen for breakfast, my little brother in the highchair starts giggling and pointing at me. My mum, who’s busy feeding him mush, turns round to see what’s so funny. When she sees me, she screams and drops the mush, which splatters everywhere.

Now the dog gets in on the act, runs in, growls—cautiously giving me a wide berth—and starts to lick up the veggie mash, keeping one eye on me the whole time.

When your mum and your dog seem afraid of your Tuesday morning bedhead, something must be up, right?

So I head back into the hall to check the mirror, bumping into Dad on the way. He’s heard the screaming and rushes past to get to Mum, without really looking at me.

I have bright red hair (dyed), so the grey moths are very obvious.

You know that feeling when you walk through a spiderweb, and it gets all over you and you don’t know if there’s also a spider on you somewhere, and so you start thrashing your hands around wildly trying to get it off and also stomping with panic? Well that. I ran outside doing that.

The moths were velvety and kinda squishy and plump under my hands. It was a sensory nightmare, because I hate that kind of texture.

So as I touch them they start fluttering around my head, landing on my face, my arms. I’m friggin’ beside myself. My eyes are squeezed shut so they can’t get in there. And also because I REALLY don’t want to see them.

Dad’s realised by now that I’m the source of the consternation and followed me out to the front yard. I hear him mumbling to himself briefly, and then a hiss—right before he turns the hose on me. TOO COLD!!!

Over the noise of the spray I hear a screen door open and slam shut. Our neighbour, who’s very short-sighted and pretty deaf, starts threatening loudly to report Dad to social services.

Mum’s brought Lukey out and he’s still laughing like all this is the best entertainment ever.

At least it seems like the hose has convinced the last of the moths to disperse. But no way am I going to school today.

With thanks to Deadlines for Writers for the prompt