When I was a kid, 65 years ago or so, some cruel girls on the bus used to mercilessly tease a friend of mine whose last name was Miller by chanting over and over, "There's a miller in the house -- kill it, kill it!"

Whenever I see a little moth, a miller, I think of that.

This miller, today, was lit on the kitchen window, outside, and I was inside: thus the ventral view.