Hells bells, they even shot the dog!

Yesterday was OscarCon, which was a lot of fun. I find that I almost never watch Serious Movies during the year, and just get them all out of the way at OscarCon annually. I like this system. It works. Bethany and I were the first to get there and the last to leave, because we are awesome.

The day before that was my graduation party, which was good times. Both my parents' families came, and they mingled for a while and then divided themselves into separate areas of the house, which I thought was funny. Bethany came, which was excellent and made me very happy. She hung out with me the whole time, and we mingled between families, which was not easy. I have a kind of suspicion that when my dad's family said, "Is this your friend?" they thought we were the lesbians, but I don't mind. I think it's funny.

But actually, I'm not here to tell you about either of those events. I am here to tell you about The Curious Incident of the Moth in the Night.

Friday night, the night before my graduation party, I stayed up late finishing getting my room cleaned and organized. It is now, incidentally, very pretty-- prettier than it has been in a good two years. Last night was the decorating phase, and then I put together a photo album whilst fast-forwarding through the stuff I'd taped during the school year, looking for things to show Bethany, who was in France. Finally, about 3:00 a.m., I went to bed.

But I couldn't sleep. I kept hearing this strange noise coming from the corners of my room. At first I thought it might be the house settling, but it was making different kinds of noises. Then I thought maybe my posters were falling down, but it was the wrong side of the room. Then I thought that maybe my cleaning had unleashed some time of spirit within my bedchamber, or that someone was trying to break in through my window, or something. Every time I would manage to convince myself that it was nothing, I'd hear it again. So finally, I turned on my light.

Now, it was about 3:15, 3:30 in the morning by now, and I'd been fast-forwarding through How I Met Your Mother, so the first thought that came into my head when I saw something dark flying around my room was, "AAAAAAHHHHH! IT'S THE COCKAMOUSE!" But, upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a gigantic moth.

Okay, maybe it wasn't gigantic. But it definitely wasn't tiny, either. I don't know how or when it came into my room, but what I had on my hands was one very medium-sized moth, and if I let it be, it would continue to keep me awake, so something had to be done. But it was also big enough that I didn't want to kill it, because that would be gross and also kind of mean. So I opened my door a little bit in the hope that it would fly out. I couldn't open the door all the way, because that would wake up my parents. Of course, if I did happen to wake them up, I wouldn't be too vexed, because all I would have to do would be to say, "Lookit! Moth!" and they would understand. Unfortunately, the moth failed to be so accomadating as to fly right out the door, so I resolved to catch it and release it into the hallway, where it could bother other people who weren't me, and in any case probably wouldn't notice it because they were all asleep.

Thus began an elaborate game of cat-and-mouse. Every time I would get close to the moth and startle it into flight, it would promptly fly into my face, and I would run away. This continued for longer that I would have liked it to, before the moth finally flew at me and, when I looked around, had disappeared. I was afraid it was somewhere about my person, so I took off my pajama pants and shook them out, and then I went all through my hair, 'cause I have a LOT of hair right now, y'all, and it seemed like a good hiding place for a moth. I did not find the moth, but I did find a humongous knot I had to get out before going to bed.

I finally concluded that the moth had flown between my legs and out the door. Or at least I hope so... because if not, it could still be in here somewhere.... waiting...

You should have had me dressed as a geisha; light opera doesn't have vikings.