Unlike some people, I don't mind my birthday. Sometimes I'm a little taken aback by what number is actually is, but I can't dwell on that. And it's certainly better than the alternative.
It was a good day - other than the fact that I was chasing birds around the house for an hour.
I was gifted with a parakeet for Christmas and, well, the cage was big and I figured he needed a buddy, so I got another one.
In anticipation of company that evening, I cleaned the cage so it would look presentable. First one escaped and then the other! I chased them from one end of the house to the other, putting out candles and shutting the lid on the toilet lest one of them should have a mishap when landing! They might have returned to their cage on their own eventually, but I didn't have that kind of time. I was near tears, feeling sure they would hit a wall or a door and kill themselves. I finally cornered one, grabbed him by the tail, intending to get hold of him but before I could do that he pulled away, leaving me with two tail feathers! I did eventually coax him onto a mirror and walked him back to his cage. I ended up dropping a light weight dish towel on the other one, thereby ending his little escapade.
They're both chirping away as I sit here, none the worse for their adventure.
And the rest of my birthday? Excellent! Good dinner, good cake, and good company.
No, I don't mind birthdays at all!
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