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Being Out-Thought By The Birds before/after There was a windstorm last week. It blew some flashing off of the house. Now, birds are trying to take residence in the metal skirting. They scrape to get under the underhang, and once they get in there, get freaked out. And scratch like motherfuckers for two to four hours on aluminum to get out once again, typically. All this starts at about 4:30 in the am, and takes place about ten feet, roughly, from where I lay my head in troubled sleep. Every. Damn. Day. SCRAAAATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH. Fuck. SCRAAAAATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH. Tweet. Motherfucker. Tweet. Tweet? SCRAAATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH. "GODAMMIT! SHOO!" Cocksuckers. You're gonna' make me kill you. I have a very 'live and let live' vibe that I enjoy. I apply it to a lot of different situations in life. But, goddamit, sleep and morning and me, it just this thing, you know? Peas in the mutha' fuckin' pod. Do not disturb. Ever. So, there I am beating on the side of my 'rents house at six a.m. with a goddam broom. Fuckers. They just do not get the point. Things are going to get critical for those biatches. Might have to lay the smack down. These fuckers have me beside that. I mean, I really don't want to stay up and stalk them or anything, like a deranged 'Carl the Groundskeeper' type. But as far as a non-violent solution that keeps them from disturbing my sleep, I got nothing. Fuck. I'm being out thought by goddam birds. My god, when you think things can't sink any lower...
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