Dear Moth

A moth was rudely awakened from its reverie this morning, and was none too pleased about it. He swarmed angrily across the cubicles, dodging the flitting arms. His dark home had been thwarted in one office memo assigning different work locations to employees. The cardboard boxes were opened to enable the move. The abrasive sound of cardboard against cardboard, and the bright rays of light were enough to anger the most resilient moth.

Dear moth,

I sympathize with you to say the least. I know the agony of being drawn out of reveries by rude noises. Envision this: The soothing effects of the mild afternoon breeze blending harmoniously with the sounds of the Professor droning on. The head nodding ever so slightly in tune with the surroundings. Suddenly the squeaking sound of chalk against the black-board - AARGH!

I know the pain of finding your favourite cove at the corner exposed to direct view. Mildly unaware of your surroundings, you jump at the irritating sound of chalk and attract attention to yourself.

My only advice to you: Be patient. Times will change, the cardboard boxes will settle and re-acquire dust. Your dreams shall start anew.

Signed,
Been There

PS: My attempts at verbalizing the set of irritating sounds drew a naught. Metal scrapping against metal, the sickening sound of squeaking chalk, the tires screeching to a halt. These noises have always affected me in unconventional ways, and I was glad to see a similar effect on Moths.