A little flying bug came into the house last night. At first I thought it was a ladybug, but when I got a closer look it was a bit longer, and its wings were the wrong color— sort of a pearly, pale blue. It landed on a piece of paper so I took the paper outside and left it. The next time I went out the bug had gone. I don't suppose I'll ever find out what sort of bug it was.
I've been trying to think for an hour, and just can't do it. My brain is fried, and I'm exhausted. I'm not sure I'll even be able to concentrate enough to read tonight. I'd really like some iced tea, but tea would just keep me awake longer, and being awake is misery. There's a bottle of orange soda, and I don't think it has caffeine, so maybe I'll settle for that. Perhaps it will keep me from withering away into a husk.
