The Moth

"The Truth Shall Set You Free"

I knew it was Wednesday because the hallway floor had been recently mopped and was slightly redolent of Pine Sol© as I crossed it to get to the parking lot where there would be sunlight for another couple of hours.

I felt like a wreck; but, what had I done to myself? I had only drank one bottle of ale, indulged in one honey bun out of the machine, and had eaten a mostly starchy diet of instant potatoes and green split peas, the day before. I had gotten in 8 hours of sleep after having stayed up a full 24 hours, after Tuesday's plasma donation.

Youtube was still auto-playing, and so I had probably slept through a few hours of Trump speeches and "right wing" slanted editorials.

I had left one of the pairs of jeans that I washed in the bathtub in the oven, but thankfully had only put the temperature at about 200 degrees, so it wasn't a room full of smoke that awakened me.

I am out of coffee. I am probably going to pause here and run down to Family Dollar to at least get a one dollar pack of instant...

Then it will be the question of whether or not to busk tonight.

There was what looked like a huge piece of fabric in a triangular shape in the stairwell to the parking lot, which turned out to be a rather huge moth. It was apparently stuck beating itself against the window right by the door, trying to fly into the parking lot.

Every time I tried to guide it with one hand towards the door that I was holding open with the other it avoided me, then frantically bashed itself against the window, just one foot away from freedom. 

It was one of the biggest moths that I had ever seen, black with specks of brown and kind of looked like a chewy date and coconut confection that I used to get at Whole Foods. When it was fluttering its wings it was as big as a hockey puck. Moths don't bite, I had to tell myself.

After I picked up on a certain rhythm with which it was banging itself against the glass, I was able to time its 4th or 5th rebound in order to get my opened hand on it enough to steer it just a little bit over so that, with its next panicked foray, it found the open skies of Louisiana.

The Truth...

...is that you want to fly just a foot or so over to your left, moth...

The moth became a symbolic thing to me at some deep subconscious level and I immediately felt the urge to text Jacob to see if he was OK.

It was also a weird coincidence that Alex in California blogged about a month ago about having set a moth free, which was kind of out of character for his blog, which usually has an emphasis upon his work-a-day struggle for survival, and his derision of all those who parasitically live off the state; all while extolling the virtues of communism. 

The sun is about to go down and I guess I'll make that coffee and cat food run now.

Now that I think of it, I still have the Starbucks gift card that the Lidgley's sent for Christamas, and I might just ride down there and get a whole bag of some variety of bean and have them grind it for me, and not have to worry about coffee for a while. At least not worry about bad tasting coffee for a while.

Of course, I could do that on my way out to busk, if I were to do so before Starbucks closes at 9...