Bloody Birds; Bloody Kids

Boys were home today, playing and tormenting each other, so of course, the doors were mostly open, most of the day. Now, post bed time, I am doodling in the kitchen, pottering around, generally avoiding the night time chores, and I start to hear funky noises… like a tapping, a fluttering, or a scraping; a shooshing, a windy sound, and heaven forbid… a bit of a squawk.
Hot damn. There’s only one thing worse than birds, and that’s birds inside my house. Bleck. Shiver. Rolling of eyes.
It has happened once before, many moons ago. Luckily Husband was home, so I didn’t (die from it) endure it alone. I saw something fly past out of the corner of my eye – while I was in the kitchen! I said as much to Husband who poo-pooed my comment. But then he saw it and thought it was a bat. It was a swallow, or one of those other small, dark, feathery fiends. Anyhoo, we ran around a bit and I eventually ran and hid in the bedroom. There were a number of open doors and the bird soon had the good sense to piss off out of one of them.
Tonight, though, I think it was just the sounds of Toad Hall trying to settle down for the night. I will know for certain in about 20 minutes when I saunter around the house looking for more chores to avoid. If I am found in the morning, dead under a pile of bird shit, people will know otherwise.

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