My wife’s brother and male cousins used to torment her with insects when she was a girl. Today she’s severely insect phobic as a result.
Somehow a small moth had found its way in and was flitting around the lamp next to me. I switched the lamp off.
“Why’d you turn the light off?”
Before I could answer, the moth landed on her neck.
For a split second she became almost invisible, jumping up off the couch while slapping at her neck. I tried but couldn’t stifle my laugh. She gave me the greasy eye and said she was going to put nutmeg in all my food.
She knows I dislike nutmeg with a passion. Whoever decided nutmeg would make a good spice must’ve been twisted. Every Christmastime wife will make a mulled cider, heavy on the nutmeg. Everyone drinks it but me.
I’d would just as soon eat gelatinous fish loaf, spam, or maybe a nice hot steaming bowl of fly soup.