Bird in the House

Yesterday was a long day. Had a consultation in Brixton. It was alright, though it got a bit sidetracked. I am always really happy when people come to a consultation, but it can be a bit disconcerting when they may not know why they are there or don't have much to contribute. In a way, it's partially our fault- because we weren't prepared for who came. On the other hand.... if something doesn't affect you, should you come to the consultation for it?

Anyway, that's not really the point of this post. I got home around 9:30. I was tired. Got into my pajamas flipped on the television and the computer and figured I had a little time to wind down before bed. Thought it was a bit chilly so went to shut the window in the lounge and noticed there was something on the floor.

C came home around 10, as she had a surprise 'on call' sprung on her. So nice on your first day back at work. I said, "C, do you know what that is over by the window?" I was particularly annoyed because we just cleaned the whole damn flat yesterday. And I was sure there wasn't gunk all along the floor by the window.

C looked at the mess on the floor. "That's birdshit."

....

The little bastards. I assume the damn bird got out the same way it came in, fervently dumping it's bowels in a bid to get out the glass until it found the open bit. Black blobs, white blobs. Fucking bird.

C made no move to do anything about the birdshit. I suppose that's also fair, as C has a tendency to close all the windows when she leaves. Except that makes the flat bloody hot when you get home. Still, since I left the window open, I suppose it was actually my responsibility. I went to get gloves and scrub things and cleaning products. Birdshit dries on hard. Fucking bird.

When it was all cleaned up, C said "good job" and I sat on the sofa to relax and forget about the gunk. I looked down at the floor by the sofa. Another blob of birdshit.

Fucking bird.