Late Friday

Last night at about 10 pm I was sitting watching TV waiting for Lewis to get home. Haley and Abi were in bed asleep and the boys were spending the night out. Adam was at a friend's house sleeping over and Jason was at his cousin's house to spend the night. (He ended up calling me at 11 or so to come and pick him up. I was not happy but if he is not ready to stay away from me I totally understand.) I heard some cats on the front steps and went to the front door to Shoo them away. As I wrenched the door open a bird flew into my house! The cats ran away but the bird was inside.


Seven. (My cat. Named because of Seinfield. On the show Seinfield there was this guy George who wanted to name his kid Seven, if he ever had one. It was good for a boy or a girl, and nobody else would use the name. Lewis loved the idea and he wanted to use the name for Abigail. Luckily in my drugged up state at the hospital I still had enough good sense to name her Abigail Brooke instead of Abigail Seven.) Anyway 7 was going crazy. She was trying to catch the bird. The bird was going crazy trying to get away, banging it's head on the ceiling every 5 seconds. And I was just going crazy. I was worried that one or all of the following would happen:


1. The bird would poop
2. The bird would knock itself out on the ceiling and pass out
3. Seven would get it and eat it
4. It might touch me somehow


All of these things grossed me out until I was almost useless. So I got the broom and was trying to Shoo it out when Lewis drove up. Thank goodness for Lewis. He got the bird out in about 30 seconds. I had been at it for about 10 minutes.

Here it is on my ledge in the living room.