Birds of a Feather
/Yesterday morning, after fulfilling my marital obligations (snicker) I was looking for something to surprise my husband with. Like the good wife I am, I had scheduled a tee time for my husband and his best friend (the one with the girlie name) to go, drink beers and pretend they were manly men. However, Mother Nature had different ideas, and opened the skies with a deluge of rain.
I could have got on my knees for him, but I was feeling too lazy. I was looking for more of an interactive activity. One that didn't involve lock jaw and sore joints. And maybe one that my kids could participate in.
So after I made my family and the man with the girlie name a kick ass breakfast (one of the few items I can cook without worry of burning or subjecting anyone to food poisoning) I sat down and started scratching my head.
What to do, what to do...Then it hit me. The birds were starting to chirp, and the clouds had started to part. Too wet to golf, but other than that, it was a lovely day outside. Suddenly it hit me. I could get the kids and I to wash the hubs (and my) cars. After all, it had already rained. The cardinal rule of when you wash your car it will suddenly rain no longer applied.
Perfect. So the kids and I gathered up our sponges, buckets, soap and unravelled the hose, to all stand before our very muddy vehicles. You would have thought the rainstorm would have helped knock some of the grime accumulated on our vehicles off, but um, no. They were still muddy. So muddy it was hard to determine what colour the cars actually were.
Aftertelling the kids to quit their whining and belly-aching encouraging my wee ones to roll up their sleeves, we got the job done. Sure we were a little wet when we finished (that damn hose just had to start a water fight...it had a mind of it's own, I accept no culpability) but both vehicles were sparkling clean and nearly unrecognizable.
Between the twittering of the birds in the trees surrounding our home, the laughter of my children tossing a ball around and the feeling of a job well done, the day was darn near perfect. Until we went in for lunch and then came outside once again.
There on the windshield of Boo's car, and on the hood of my car, was an enormous pile of bird shit. Judging from the size of the splatter, it was most likely deposited by one of the many Great Blue Heron's that call our property home. Fuckers.
Since there was no way my darling children were going to touch the fresh shit with a ten foot pole, I had limited options. I could rewash the vehicles myself (not likely) or I could cuss and swear and ultimately ignore the goo.
Guess what I chose to do? After all, there was no shit on my windshield. He he. Boo came wandering out and stopped when he saw his car.
"I thought you guys washed this."
"We did."
"Well, it looks like you missed a spot. Like the whole damn windshield."
"It wasn't our fault. You are the one who insists we live out in the sticks. There is a price to be paid for such privilege you know," I said as I was slowly walking backwards, while eyeing the sky, towards the house. You never know when a surprise may drop from the sky around here.
"Wuss. Only you would be too chicken-shit to clean up some bird poop." He looked a tad disgusted with me.
"Yum, a tasty fish. Now I can poop on Boo's car..."
"That's not just a tiny drop of bird poop, my dear. That's a dinosaur pond of pterodactyl crap. That does not fall under my list of Father day responsibilities. Sorry hon, we tried. Speaking of birds, I need you to fill some of the feeders. My arms aren't long enough and I don't trust your kids with the ladder."
"Great. The birds shit all over my car and now you want me to feed them." I know honey. Life really is unfair.
"Just think of the birds as your children. All they do is eat and shit too. At least the birds are pretty and they don't sound like cats in heat when they sing." I confess, it was hard to hide my smug grin.
Somehow, my husband was not soothed by this. As he walked to the shed (while muttering some filthy words) to find the bird seed I noticed two robins had perched on his trunk. As they flew away, one of them dropped a load. Which hit the top of his hood with resounding accuracy.
I wish I had that talent some days.
This place really is going to the birds.
****On a spicier note, if you are looking for something to perk you up on a Monday, or need something to laugh at, you may want to go have a gander over here. Racy Red has struck again.****
I could have got on my knees for him, but I was feeling too lazy. I was looking for more of an interactive activity. One that didn't involve lock jaw and sore joints. And maybe one that my kids could participate in.
So after I made my family and the man with the girlie name a kick ass breakfast (one of the few items I can cook without worry of burning or subjecting anyone to food poisoning) I sat down and started scratching my head.
What to do, what to do...Then it hit me. The birds were starting to chirp, and the clouds had started to part. Too wet to golf, but other than that, it was a lovely day outside. Suddenly it hit me. I could get the kids and I to wash the hubs (and my) cars. After all, it had already rained. The cardinal rule of when you wash your car it will suddenly rain no longer applied.
Perfect. So the kids and I gathered up our sponges, buckets, soap and unravelled the hose, to all stand before our very muddy vehicles. You would have thought the rainstorm would have helped knock some of the grime accumulated on our vehicles off, but um, no. They were still muddy. So muddy it was hard to determine what colour the cars actually were.
After
Between the twittering of the birds in the trees surrounding our home, the laughter of my children tossing a ball around and the feeling of a job well done, the day was darn near perfect. Until we went in for lunch and then came outside once again.
There on the windshield of Boo's car, and on the hood of my car, was an enormous pile of bird shit. Judging from the size of the splatter, it was most likely deposited by one of the many Great Blue Heron's that call our property home. Fuckers.
Since there was no way my darling children were going to touch the fresh shit with a ten foot pole, I had limited options. I could rewash the vehicles myself (not likely) or I could cuss and swear and ultimately ignore the goo.
Guess what I chose to do? After all, there was no shit on my windshield. He he. Boo came wandering out and stopped when he saw his car.
"I thought you guys washed this."
"We did."
"Well, it looks like you missed a spot. Like the whole damn windshield."
"It wasn't our fault. You are the one who insists we live out in the sticks. There is a price to be paid for such privilege you know," I said as I was slowly walking backwards, while eyeing the sky, towards the house. You never know when a surprise may drop from the sky around here.
"Wuss. Only you would be too chicken-shit to clean up some bird poop." He looked a tad disgusted with me.
"That's not just a tiny drop of bird poop, my dear. That's a dinosaur pond of pterodactyl crap. That does not fall under my list of Father day responsibilities. Sorry hon, we tried. Speaking of birds, I need you to fill some of the feeders. My arms aren't long enough and I don't trust your kids with the ladder."
"Great. The birds shit all over my car and now you want me to feed them." I know honey. Life really is unfair.
"Just think of the birds as your children. All they do is eat and shit too. At least the birds are pretty and they don't sound like cats in heat when they sing." I confess, it was hard to hide my smug grin.
Somehow, my husband was not soothed by this. As he walked to the shed (while muttering some filthy words) to find the bird seed I noticed two robins had perched on his trunk. As they flew away, one of them dropped a load. Which hit the top of his hood with resounding accuracy.
I wish I had that talent some days.
This place really is going to the birds.
****On a spicier note, if you are looking for something to perk you up on a Monday, or need something to laugh at, you may want to go have a gander over here. Racy Red has struck again.****