Somewhere in here there is a message about Holy Week. Let’s start with the facts.
About two weeks ago, when we were outside moving the two TONS of rock (no really, it was that much), when Scott and I saw a bird fly up into the vent and just sit there. It fuh-reaked me out. All it took was one showing of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds” in high school and I am NOT a bird person. At all. Bird watching, I’ll have none of it. They just look insanely creepy to me. I digress. This bird was really annoyed at us and kept squawking or tweeting and then flew off. We made a mental note to put a cover over the vent and I ran the dryer as much as possible to deter the bird. Note, I said *mental*. That really means, “15 minutes later we forgot.”
Fast forward a week and I’m doing laundry. I keep smelling grass but I cannot find the culprit. I search beside and behind the dryer, even going so far as to pull it out a bit and see if some stray soccer sock is chillaxing back there. No luck. The smell was horrible and it made me gag. I just chalked it up to kids and massive amounts of sporting gear. Then yesterday, the light bulb dinged. DUH. That d**n bird was nesting in our vent. And not just nesting, but it was a momma bird preparing a nest for her babies.
Great. Now I have to kill baby birds during Holy Week.
Scott went outside to investigate last night and as he was poking around, a bird literally flew out of the vent, attacked his face and nearly knocked him off the one-story ladder. O.M.G. Y’all, if I had been out there I would’ve been shipped off to the crazy house. As it was, Scott said he screamed like a little girl. No worries, Mr. Whitaker, if that had been me on the ladder I would’ve summoned the entire Austin Fire Department with my yells.
The good news? Scott escaped unscathed.
The bad news? We have an air vent guy coming out on Wednesday to clean ‘er out. Bye, bye, baby birds and mean, squawking momma bird.
The funny news? Right after all that happened, Scott found two Mormons in our driveway trying to convert him, on Palm Sunday no less. I tell ya, that boy just can’t turn down a good theological discussion.
So, in all of THAT mess it should make for an interesting Holy Week. I still feel bad about evicting the birds, but I need my dryer and they need to find a new place to live. Looks like I’m on the lookout for a bird cage to put over our vent. Never. A. Dull. Moment.
Tomorrow, the Chrism Mass is on tap.