Chirpy things

While I was waiting for the coffee to drip into the coffee pot, I texted our mutual friend and told him about the door.

You went all Queenie on the door, did you, he replied. Go watch Eastern Promise, it'll make you feel better you know.

It's nice to know I'm an adjective to some people.

It's nice to know some people remember the little things about me.

That's the problem with the winter here. It's very isolating. Everyone just bunkers up for a couple of months and doesn't really go out.

So by week fourteen you just want to kill someone.

Then you wake up one morning and go outside and there it is....

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

OhMYGoD the birds are back! THE BIRDS ARE BACK!! HIMSELF, HIMSELF, WAKE UP DUDE, THE BIRDS ARE BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cue delighted crazy dance around the apartment as Himself confirms that yes, he too can hear the chirping so it is not in Queenie's head.

Then, later that day, it snows about half a foot.

So not only are you now having another fit because it is SNOWING AGAIN, but now you are freaking out about the poor ickle wickle chirpy birds freezing to death.

Himself assures me they won't but he can't provide any detailed information on exactly why that is.

So every morning starts with a straining out the window, just to make sure it's still there.

chirp, chirp, chirp.