I can’t fucking stand it anymore.
It was bad enough last fall when I spotted the Red-Tailed Hawk cruising above my workplace. Well, actually that part was pretty cool. I didn’t know she was going to build a nest in what seems right outside my office window. All day long I hear the squeal and squeak of what sounds like baby hawks. Or something.
Then our secretary decides to bring in a cage with a pair of finches. All day long, I can hear the twittering and fluttering and pecking at things that trill.
I really hate high-pitched noises.
Especially while I’m trying to work.
I’m going to cook those fucking birds and serve them at the next office party.
Just had to get that off my chest.
I have it worse. There’s a family of birds nesting under my bedroom floor. Seriously. There’s a dryer vent that runs between my floor and the ceiling of the apartment below me, and it’s apparently a lovely place to raise baby chicks. Noisy bastards.
Aiiigh!
I have a wonderful recipe for Birds’ Nest Soup, if you’re interested.
Man, who rubberstamped the OK on that one? That would drive me fucking batty.
I dunno.
Got to work this morning and as I was breaking into my friend’s office to leave a birthday gift on her desk, I noticed the bird cage has moved. To another woman’s office – on the other side of the building from mine. I told her that’s what she gets for expressing more than a passing interest in the damn birds.
What I want to know is: Why won’t the woman who brought 'em in, take 'em home? WTF?