Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2011-05-17 12:25 am
tenlittlebullets) wrote2011-05-17 12:25 am
Is this what adulthood consists of?
Guess the first thing that happened when I, freshly graduated and all moved out from Smith, arrived at my mom's house after an eight-hour drive back to Washington DC!
a) I schlepped my stuff in and collapsed.
b) I made myself a nice big pitcher of iced mint tea to beat the humidity, schlepped my stuff in, and collapsed.
c) A motherfucking bird flew in the front door five seconds after I unlocked it.
If you guessed (c), congratulations! You win a mental image of the twenty-minute slapstick routine that ensued as I apologized profusely to the stupid creature while attempting to chase it out with a broom. Eventually I got it locked in the upstairs bathroom and finally did the sensible thing, i.e. scattering some grass seed on the window sill, turning on the backyard lights, and turning out the lights in the bathroom to encourage it to fly out. Except as soon as I turned out the lights it decided it was bedtime. As far as I know it is still in there, biding its time, snoozing on the shower curtain rod as every mosquito in a fifty-mile radius throws a party in the bathroom.
I just know it will somehow get out into the house in the middle of the night and then my obituary will read "![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
10littlebullets: Graduated magna cum laude from Smith College, tragically pecked to death in her sleep by a psychotic house finch at the end of her first day as a Real Motherfucking Adult." Or worse, "Died of a horrible mosquito-borne illness while trying to clean the bird shit off the bath towels; tragically did not even have time to move them to the dryer before succumbing, and was found six days later in a pile of guano and moldy towels."
So basically, being an adult fucking sucks and if any of you know ways to get the bird out and/or ways to exterminate mosquitoes en masse without poisoning the whole house, please, for the love of dead Gallifreyan puppies and the tear tracks on baby Cosette's morose dirt-stained face, share them. Save me from the indignity of showering buck naked in a room full of skeeters and getting bug bites where the sun don't shine. Or being pecked to death in the middle of the night by a stroppy homicidal house finch that decided to live up to its name.
a) I schlepped my stuff in and collapsed.
b) I made myself a nice big pitcher of iced mint tea to beat the humidity, schlepped my stuff in, and collapsed.
c) A motherfucking bird flew in the front door five seconds after I unlocked it.
If you guessed (c), congratulations! You win a mental image of the twenty-minute slapstick routine that ensued as I apologized profusely to the stupid creature while attempting to chase it out with a broom. Eventually I got it locked in the upstairs bathroom and finally did the sensible thing, i.e. scattering some grass seed on the window sill, turning on the backyard lights, and turning out the lights in the bathroom to encourage it to fly out. Except as soon as I turned out the lights it decided it was bedtime. As far as I know it is still in there, biding its time, snoozing on the shower curtain rod as every mosquito in a fifty-mile radius throws a party in the bathroom.
I just know it will somehow get out into the house in the middle of the night and then my obituary will read "
10littlebullets: Graduated magna cum laude from Smith College, tragically pecked to death in her sleep by a psychotic house finch at the end of her first day as a Real Motherfucking Adult." Or worse, "Died of a horrible mosquito-borne illness while trying to clean the bird shit off the bath towels; tragically did not even have time to move them to the dryer before succumbing, and was found six days later in a pile of guano and moldy towels."So basically, being an adult fucking sucks and if any of you know ways to get the bird out and/or ways to exterminate mosquitoes en masse without poisoning the whole house, please, for the love of dead Gallifreyan puppies and the tear tracks on baby Cosette's morose dirt-stained face, share them. Save me from the indignity of showering buck naked in a room full of skeeters and getting bug bites where the sun don't shine. Or being pecked to death in the middle of the night by a stroppy homicidal house finch that decided to live up to its name.