Day 202 — Cardinal

[for Saturday, July 21]



Alternate title: "Man, I really need a zoom lens."

Project 365

Day 198 — Egg

I felt like crap on a stick today, so I stayed home from work to recharge the old batteries. Of course, this meant a lot of crappy reality television; about a million iPhone commercials; various catnaps and naps with cats splayed on top of me; and a brief moment when I considered leaping off my balcony in a bid to spear the cardinal outside the window chirping his very boring, very monotone chirp.

This cardinal is not to be confused with the sparrows that have returned to their rightful place beneath the AC unit in the bedroom window and have been waking me each morning at 6 with their cheery chirps. Well, I suppose I should say had returned, since I coaxed Phil into coming over and helping me heave the AC unit onto the bed (thus soaking the mattress, d'oh!) so I could clean out the new nest and rig something up to block them from building nest v3.0. Turns out the best I could come up with was a chopped-up shoebox, wedged into the nooks and crannies so as to block curious little nest-builders from even trying to shimmy under the AC. Who knows if it'll work long-term. But chances are, I will be able to sleep past 6 tomorrow morning, and that's definitely worth a mutilated shoebox. or twelve.

Of course, there was a little egg in the nest I cleaned out. Phil looked at it and, in his animal-whisperer way, determined that it was rotten. I told him to throw it in the trash, so he tossed it out the window and it splattered on some clean white car's hood. And, sure enough, it was rotten. Phil phelt so bad that he went downstairs and cleaned off the car's hood.

I don't feel too bad for the birds. There are other AC units, and other trees in my neighborhood. There will be more eggs, and better environments in which to raise a baby bird than beneath the noisy, wet belly of an air conditioning unit that belongs to a selfish, grumpy lady who has had her fill of intrusive wildlife.

Project 365

Hot time, summer in the city OR Instant karma

It should be of no surprise that my small victory over nature would prove to be Pyrrhic.

I left for work with this gaping hole in my wall:



I was under the impression that the air conditioner would be returned at 5 p.m. or so. And by "I was under the impression," I mean "the contractor lady told me to my face." So imagine my surprise when my landlord called to tell me at 6 or so that they wouldn't be bringing it back until tomorrow morning. (Which probably means tomorrow night.) He was very nice and offered me a free night at a hotel, but I'm no pampered socialite; I can stick it out for a night without AC. It's not even July yet!

That said, it's a balmy 84 degrees in my living room, and I'm considering ushering in a new age of naked blogging. Or better yet, I should turn off the computer so it won't put off any heat.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about this whole ordeal is the fact that naught but a flimsy sheet of tinfoil separates me from an angry family of birds that's probably going to be looking for its home and, when that goes undiscovered, the meanie who disposed of it like trash. Hey, there she is, sleeping. We'll show her a rude awakening!

Update, 10:33 a.m.:* The hilarity of life's randomness is just too much sometimes. Like, when you're awakened at 6:30 a.m. by a pop! outside your window, at which point you realize your power's gone out. And when the sluggish, hot air in your 84-degree apartment becomes very still and quiet, and you try putting a wet washcloth on your head to cool down a bit so you can go back to sleep, it's hilarious waking up every fifty minutes in a damp pool of saltwater, checking your phone to see if it's mercifully time to get up yet. Thankfully, the power came back on thirty minutes ago or so, so I at least have a fan. But those bastards still haven't returned my AC. I wonder if it was a scam and they just made off with it...

*If all of this is making me sound incredibly spoiled, it's because I am.

Day 163 — Nest

My landlord called today to say it was time to have my air conditioning unit serviced, so when the technicians removed it from the window and carted it off, I got a good look at the bird nest that's been giving me trouble lately. And then I scooped it up and threw it in the trash. Harsh, perhaps, but at least there were no eggs to deal with. Those bachelor/ette birds can move along, no strings attached.

Project 365

Me vs. the birds ... again

Perhaps in another life, I might have been a Nature Queen, scaling mountains alongside my possee of friendly wolves and raccoons, sleeping on pallets of donated feathers from benevolent geese, nestled up in the crook of an overprotective bear's neck while jungle monkeys gathered nuts and berries for me. Hey, it could have happened. In a magical forest.

Instead, nature and I, we don't really get along all that well. You see, I am a colossal wuss. Aside from the time I spent outdoors playing sports, I was always more of an indoor kid. Some kids liked going outside to eat dirt; I preferred to stay inside and read Great Expectations. So, now, much of the time I spend outdoors is spent wondering if there are ticks falling on me from the sky. So I try to leave nature alone most of the time, and just kind of observe it in all its big, beautiful messy wonder. I like nature. I want nature to flourish. I don't want it to be paved. But I do like nature to leave me alone in certain circumstances.

Namely, when I'm sleeping. Nature always seems to come at me hardest when I'm on my bed*.

Perhaps you recall the horrific squirrels-coming-through-the-ceiling-above-the-bed incident.

Or maybe the traumatic brown-recluse-crawling-next-to-my-ear incident, which also happened while I was lying on my bed.

And surely you've not forgotten the great bird caper of the summer of '04, chronicled here, here, and here.

Good times, all.

So it won't surprise you to know I've got a bird problem again.

That's right — a freaking family of sparrows has decided to make its home in the little cranny beside my air-conditioning unit, which is situated, you guessed it, right beside my freaking bed. So each morning at the smelly asscrack of dawn, those sparrows start up their happy chirping as I am entering (if I'm lucky) my second hour of sleep. Even with the loud-ass air on high, I can still hear them. It's like they are in my skull.

They start up, and I lean over to the window and smack at it a bit. I see them fly away and perch in the nearest tree until the coast is clear. Then they come back and chirp as if nothing had happened. Repeat ad nauseum. The crappy thing is, I can't figure out how to remedy the problem. I am not able to reach the cranny from the adjacent window. My only hope is to go outside and get a really long pole and see if I can knock their nest down.

And there is nothing like wishing for the death of a happy, chirping bird to remind you of just how evil you are.

As if I needed even more proof.

*If you made it through that sentence without snickering, you are a better person than I. As if you needed more proof!