The Genius of Pestilence has appeared in my closet. I am sure it is he, as he has come in the form of small, brownish-white moths with dark brown heads. And isn't it written somewhere that when clothes moths infest a fashionista's closet this is surely a Sign of the End? Here we are on the last night of Passover -- we should remember how God sent ten plagues to Egypt -- blood, frogs, locusts, the death of the firstborn, the discovery of holes in cashmere sweaters....Isn't it supposed to be the End when I have found seven garments each with seven holes?
Dear Reader, please know that I am doing something about this. I am staving off the Apocalypse for you. I have with great diligence removed every piece of wool clothing from my closet, and took it to the cleaners. Then, I purchased plastic garment bags and cedar wood drenched with lavender oil. When I got my clothes back from the cleaner, I stored them in these bags, with the wood. Other sweaters I put in plastic sweater boxes, along with the wood.
Gentle Reader, I am a thorough and detail oriented woman. I also have quite a large wardrobe, so the logistics of this project have taken two weeks to plan and execute. I had to secure funding. I had to create a war plan. One cannot win the heart and mind of a moth, let alone a Horseman, so this had to be Total War. My boyfriend, to my dismay, is a man of little faith. He has watched me with glee, laughing, as I arrange and rearrange, as I go on alert when a moth flies by us, bobbing up and down a little and trying to avoid the light (that's how you know it is the Horseman, it doesn't like light). He makes light of my -- and your -- misfortune. He belittles my mission. He laughs in the face of the Horseman. Ah, but he will stop laughing, for, as I have secured my closet, it is time to move on to his.