Fresh From the Fight

I hate moths. I really do.

I understand it is neither rational nor reasonable to be afraid of them, but I am.

Also, at this writing, I am cowering in a corner of the couch having built a veritable fortress from the cushions to hide behind. I have been here ever since I saw the first moth fly in through the open door and beeline (mothline?) to the table lamp at my side.

Now, there may be total of a gajillion of them weaving and bobbing at the light.

Ian is now on a rescue mission and has thus far has saved me from four-- no, five... wait, make that EIGHT of the nasty creatures by scooping them up gently in his hands and carrying them outside to fly free. Leaving it to me to be able to come out of my hidey-hole and continue reading my book.

Ian is my hero.