I've been put on notice that no one wants weepy, sentimental posts, especially first thing in the morning. And evidently, the world would be a better place if I'd just write about birds.
It's ok. I'm tired of my life, too.
Or I could just write about traffic. I could write about the idiot who peeled out of a parking lot against the red light this morning. Or encountering not one but two fire trucks in the space of time it took me to drive the daughter to school. About how the space of time it took me to drive the daughter to school somehow doubled today for no apparently good reason. Or perhaps about the messy accident that shut down part of the freeway this afternoon.
No? Well then there are all the homeless spiders in my backyard. I hired a guy to take out the kids' play area, and it was spider-o-rama. And about a million bugs have been displaced: earwigs, pill bugs, bugs I've never seen the like of. I hope they all go visit the neighbors who will not quell their barky dog.
(There was also the spider--another orb weaver--who was bent on attacking the tree guy yesterday while he was giving me an estimate. The tree guy, self-described as "not a spider guy," was not pleased by this.)
I dug a volunteer fig tree out of the backyard. D. asked me today which birds are the neighborhood "thugs." The crows. Far and away. They also helpfully plant things in my garden. Like fig trees. And non-dairy creamer containers.
And there are travel matters.
"Is there anything special you want to do while we're in Chicago?" I asked the son. "The Field Museum is nearby. We'll be close to the lake and the river..."
"We could go to a concert," he said hopefully.
I considered for a moment. "Well, I could check," I told him. "See if there is anything."
"Mom, I love you," he laughed.
Of course, there isn't anything in the vicinity. But I'll figure something out.
I excel at that.
Go listen to some silly music: "Blue (Da Ba Dee)" from the album Europop by Eiffel 65. You may blame this song on the son. The post? Blame me. While I'm not blue in the classical sense (or the literal one), I am falling-down tired...