A Place to Land (Preferably Not My Head)

Every year there seems to be a new blight that causes the farmers to be up in arms about crop yields and price per bushel and insurance premiums. If it's not a fungus it's an aphid; a draught or a flood (because it's never in between); it's either too hot or too cool. This year it's the Corn Borer Moth and that means a possible decrease in the amount of bushels per acre. Instead of 200 bushels, the farmers my only get 195 bushels per acre; Bring on the insecticides (but note they are only eighty percent effective) because I would much rather they get that extra five bushels of GMO corn than worry about the cancer and genetic mutations I'll acquire later in life.

I think the moths have scattered from the fields and come to live in relative safety on our land because we seem to have them in abundance. They are in the house, in my car, and I can't sit on the deck without swatting them away from my head (and you know how I feel about insects, especially the flying ones). They only live about three or four weeks, so soon enough I'll have my nights back.