Last night, I was in bed, coloring (WHAT. It's relaxing.), when I saw movement in the doorway of the bedroom. I assumed it was the cat, off to claim a snack. I stretched my legs and my feet bumped into the squishiness of said cat, fast asleep at the bottom of the bed.
Well, then.
I continued to color, wondering what malevolent spirit was prancing around my bedroom, when I saw the movement again. Not to be fooled twice, I looked up and realized it was not some headless child come to take her revenge but what appeared to be a mosquito.
Now, instead of fearing would be attacked by a murderous poltergeist I was sure I would be dying in the night from West Nile. My coloring took on a feverish pace and I may have nudged the cat a bit harder in an attempt to get him to WAKE UP AND GET THE MOSQUITO! He was not having it.
I continued to color, now looking out for the plague-carrying insect, when a flutter of wings hit my mouth (!!!) and I swatted helplessly at my face. And then I watched. I would be diligent. I would not sleep while that mosquito still lived.
And then I saw it. It was... not a mosquito. It was a tiny moth, attracted (I guess?) to the gleaming whiteness of my face.
I returned to my paper and exhaled. No unexplained deaths in the night were in store, it seemed, and I could relax.
I hate Sunday nights.
(OK, yes. I really was coloring. Blame Anne. She posted some grown-up coloring sheets to Pinterest and I grabbed some colored markers and went to town, letting my mind wander where it would. It was actually really relaxing and I highly recommend it. I think next time I may listen to a podcast, though. To ward off the ghostly mosquitoes.)
