For about three hours prior to now, I should have been working on my Iron Man costume, but I read almost all of Mrs. Beavers' blog posts, instead. She says almost everything I want to say, but reading it in her style sounds so much better than how it sounds in my own head. I look forward to her next post, to which I will probably say, "I hate all of these orange-skinned, white women, too!" Mrs. Beavers' commentaries are great. This is the one that sent me on a 3 hour blog binge.
Even though the night is still young, I do have to work at 5:30 in the morning, and I am in that I-have-enough-time-to-start-something-but-not-finish-it-so-it's-better-not-to-start mode. Which is actually just a excuse for being lazy.
I did manage to capture and free a moth that has been hanging around the light in my bathroom since last night. I did the ol' cup and paper trick. I didn't want to get my fingers on those wings, which would have perhaps rendered him flightless, and would have left my finger tips with that silver mothy wing dust. Why does that stuff just come off? Imagine if our skin was like that, you touch someone and you get flaky skin grit all over your palms. Man, it must suck to be a moth. . .