Bird, bird, bird, bird is the word....

So yesterday, I'm laying on my deathbed deathcouch sick-couch and there was a knock and the backdoor.  The kid who lives on the other side of my house was there.  This is the one who has a bedroom in the attic.  He tells me that I may have birds in my attic (at least he didn't say I had bats in my bellfry).  He said he caught one up in his bedroom and released it out the window, but it came back and shit on his table, so now he's done with it.

Anyway, despite being in a drug-induced near-coma/bout of the flu, I told him I'd chck into it and struggled my way upstairs to the attic.  The middle of part of the attic has been made into a bedroom, with carpet and paneling and all that stuff.  That's where I have all my 'attic stuff' stored.  But in the front and back of that room is a normal 'attic': bare rafters, bare wooden floor, etc.

So I went to the front part, and saw nothing.  I saw no bird feathers and no bird shit, so that meant to me that there were no birds there.  I went to the back part, and found the same thing.  Although, as I was walking around a box filled with old sheets (that the previous tenants left there, thanks guys) I found a dea bird laying there.  Right there, next to the box.  And I'm pretty sure I squealed a little.  I'm certain a loud gasp escaped my lips.  It just took me by surprise.  I just hope the kid next door wasn't in his room and heard it.

Anyway, in the midst of my sickness, I didn't feel like doing anything with it.  I thought I'd just deal with it today.  So, today, I went to work, but since I still was feeling pretty crappy, I didn't stay the whole day.  When I got home, I remembered the bird.  And I remembered that tonight's the night I have to put the trash out, so even though I didn't feel like doing anything with it, I knew I had to.  I mean, if I didn't I'd have a dead bird rotting in my attic, or my garbage bag, for another week.  No thank you, sir.

So, I got a plastic bag and a strong piece of cardboard (didn't want to use a broom or dustpan, cause I didn't want anything I'd be using again to touch a dead bird carcass).  I also put on these really thing gardening gloves I have.  Didn't want to risk an inadvertant touch of carcass on flesh, ya know?

So up I go.  I put the bag next to the bird and tried to push it into the bag with the concrete.  I wasn't terribly successful.  I had to put the cardboard under the edge of the bird and try to flip it into the bag.  I was...kind of successful.  But as the bird wasn't totally completely IN the bag, as I lifted the bag up, it just rolled back out and thumped onto the floor.

And it was then I noticed that the bird's eyes were gone.  Like eaten away or disolved or something.  Glorious.   Ignoring that, and the occasional gagging I was doing, I again tried to slide the cardboard under the bird and flip it into the bag.  And this time I was sucessful.  I put the cardboard in the bag, and tied it shut.  And as I was walking it down the stairs to the garbage bag, I gagged a few times more.  But I successfully got the bag into the garbage bag, and even as I type this, it's sitting on the sidewalk waiting for the garbage men tomorrow morning.

And now that I've handled that crisis in totally manly manner, I'm going to bed.  This cold/flu is totally kicking my ass.

POLT