There is a moth on my screen, and I’m too much of a weenie to shoo him off. I hate flying insects…especially grasshoppers and crickets, as I have this unreasoning fear that those spiky legs might get caught in my hair. I hate them – I could handle a poisonous snake before I could handle a cricket with my bare hands.
Go away, moth. Just don’t flap around, you’ll give me a heart attack.
Lizzie’s leg is still…open. Very open. I’m trying aloe vera on it now, so the bandages won’t stick to it and they keep sliding down her legs in a loose puddle of vetwrap (VERY expensive stuff here).
The moth is still there, in the centre of my screen. I am typing around him.
The rats are running up and down the stairs, with short breaks in the bay window downstairs, where they can wave at all the drunks coming home from the pubs and freak them out.
The moth is still there…I’m going to call it a night. Although it’s too warm to sleep.