Bye Bye Birdie Feeder
On Wednesday, it started snowing. We awoke on Thursday morning to a city in “Level 3 Snow Emergency.” Due to Mike’s and my cable-free status, we were happily oblivious the area’s emergency and thought we’d get some new movies at Blockbuster. We paid no mind to the 18 inches of snow in our driveway and street. After all, I have a Subaru! Mike jumped in my car, failing to clear the front or back windows of snow, and attempted to back up. The car barely moved. Although the all-wheel drive is awesome, my wagon simply couldn’t clear the snow. We needed a snow shovel.
Because we spent the past 4 years living on a semi-tropical island, we do not own a snow shovel or much cold weather-related gear. (In fact, Mike has no gloves!) I skipped off to our reliable neighbor Mary’s house to borrow a shovel. Unfortunately, her shovel had been stolen and she pointed me towards the next neighbor, who was shoveling his walk. I slowly trudged over. Except when drunk, I don’t really like meeting new people. I find the chore even more onerous when I have to meet new people and then impose upon them for a favor. Thankfully, the home owners, Bill and Joyce, were very nice and readily lent me two snow shovels. I scampered back to our house with the booty.
Mike had made some progress in his backing efforts. The car was now in the lawn and he had spun the tires in the yard until the snow turned brown. As I came hippety-hopping up with the snow shovels, my triumphant smile quickly faded and I asked “Where’s the birdfeeder?”
I am quite attached to the birdfeeder. The crook-style pole was installed in the lawn, at the corner of the driveway and the walk, when we bought the house. After some trauma with the local rodents, a few different birdfeeders, and a little Vaseline, my cat and I enjoy watching the winter birds. Although I have often narrowly missed the feeder with the car, it had remained unscathed.
Mike’s answer: “What birdfeeder? I don’t see a birdfeeder.” Indeed, there was no birdfeeder to be seen. I continued hysterically questioning him until he admitted that he had mown the feeder down and stashed it around the side of the house, hoping I wouldn’t notice. He then derided my sleuthing abilities for failing to notice the footprints left as he hid the evidence. (The previous evening, I had made the brilliant deduction that the UPS man had made a delivery by examining the footprints leading across the lawn, from the street to the front door.)
Although saddened by my loss, I forgave Mike for both his carelessness and duplicity and we dug the driveway out enough to get the car to the street. However, we soon realized that, until the street was plowed or we shoveled it too, we were still snow-bound. The plow finally came by at 4 p.m. and we were able to make a Blockbuster run before I had to be at my show’s final performance.
Today is Tuesday. The yard and the pole hole are still hidden beneath the snow. We will have to wait until it melts to replant the feeder. This week, the temperatures are expected to reach the 40s and it will rain, which should rapidly clear the snow. Until then, the starving, betrayed birdies shiver in the icy air and Cleo the cat stares mournfully at the spot where the feeder once stood.
Because we spent the past 4 years living on a semi-tropical island, we do not own a snow shovel or much cold weather-related gear. (In fact, Mike has no gloves!) I skipped off to our reliable neighbor Mary’s house to borrow a shovel. Unfortunately, her shovel had been stolen and she pointed me towards the next neighbor, who was shoveling his walk. I slowly trudged over. Except when drunk, I don’t really like meeting new people. I find the chore even more onerous when I have to meet new people and then impose upon them for a favor. Thankfully, the home owners, Bill and Joyce, were very nice and readily lent me two snow shovels. I scampered back to our house with the booty.
Mike had made some progress in his backing efforts. The car was now in the lawn and he had spun the tires in the yard until the snow turned brown. As I came hippety-hopping up with the snow shovels, my triumphant smile quickly faded and I asked “Where’s the birdfeeder?”
I am quite attached to the birdfeeder. The crook-style pole was installed in the lawn, at the corner of the driveway and the walk, when we bought the house. After some trauma with the local rodents, a few different birdfeeders, and a little Vaseline, my cat and I enjoy watching the winter birds. Although I have often narrowly missed the feeder with the car, it had remained unscathed.
Mike’s answer: “What birdfeeder? I don’t see a birdfeeder.” Indeed, there was no birdfeeder to be seen. I continued hysterically questioning him until he admitted that he had mown the feeder down and stashed it around the side of the house, hoping I wouldn’t notice. He then derided my sleuthing abilities for failing to notice the footprints left as he hid the evidence. (The previous evening, I had made the brilliant deduction that the UPS man had made a delivery by examining the footprints leading across the lawn, from the street to the front door.)
Although saddened by my loss, I forgave Mike for both his carelessness and duplicity and we dug the driveway out enough to get the car to the street. However, we soon realized that, until the street was plowed or we shoveled it too, we were still snow-bound. The plow finally came by at 4 p.m. and we were able to make a Blockbuster run before I had to be at my show’s final performance.
Today is Tuesday. The yard and the pole hole are still hidden beneath the snow. We will have to wait until it melts to replant the feeder. This week, the temperatures are expected to reach the 40s and it will rain, which should rapidly clear the snow. Until then, the starving, betrayed birdies shiver in the icy air and Cleo the cat stares mournfully at the spot where the feeder once stood.
posted by Kasmira at 28.12.04
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home