Irony. There are many good examples, several great examples, but only a few examples that can be deemed as priceless. This is one such priceless example of irony.

When we first moved in together, my wife and I lived in an apartment complex in the city. From day one, she has had a thing about anything that crawled or flew. Ants, flies, mosquitoes, they were all targets from an otherwise sweet and charming woman.

We moved into a country house on a back road, and obviously the amount of insects that were able to get into our home multiplied exponentially. This turned my wife into the Rambo of pest elimination. For the past two years I have seen her with her battery-powered arsenal just destroying these flying targets who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Over the weekend, we were sitting at home and a moth dive-bombed me twice. After the third time, I went to eliminate my adversary. My wife said, "Stop!!! What are you doing?" I told her I was going to kill the moth. "No!!!" she exclaimed! She went on to tell me that when she was a kid and there was a moth in their house, her dad would say, "Hello, Mr. Moth!" They would keep the moth around, almost like a pet, until it was able to fly out.

Just as she said that, the moth flew in to the fan. Done! Over! Just like that! I could almost hear it screaming in that fan-induced robot voice as he made his final flight. The moral of the story is that everything happens for a reason. I didn't kill the moth, but it was time to go! I guess there is something to that theory of final destination.


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