Tired. Tired tired tired.

I spent all last night -- and I'm pretty sure I do mean all night -- dreaming about these two... fairies? Maybe? Small people, sort of androgynous, about a foot and a half tall, with feathery translucent butterfly wings. With geometric designs. One had green wings, and one had blue.

But both of them had broken wings. Or... broken isn't the right word. Their wings had been cut in half. The cut-off segments hovered near where they were supposed to be, but the fairies couldn't fly.

They were carried instead by a... Well, what I called him in the dream was "the angel," even if he didn't quite fit the classic definition of an angel. The angel didn't have wings at all, and he didn't fly. He jumped.

I don't remember what the three of them did all night, though.

I'm too tired to talk about an ordinary day and remember anything that was noteworthy. Penny brushed her teeth and helped me straighten the living room before bed, both without having to be nagged excessively, so that was nice.

But I wouldn't want to leave you with nothing, so here -- have a couple of pictures.

 

--Liz