I wanted to start a fire in the fireplace. Wendy had a late meeting, so I thought it would be nice for her to come home to a cozy cracking fire with the house feeling warm and welcoming. We would eat leftover roast beast from last night's dinner and share all the boring little details of our day with each other.
When I say "boring little details" I'm mainly referring to my day. My days overflow with boring little details. She probably has some interesting details to share about hers. Oh! I do have one interesting thing to share with her. Something she'll find fascinating because it's medical and she loves medical stuff. It's gross medical too. She'll be in heaven.
But back to the fire.
I was going to start a fire.
But a bird thwarted me.
At least for now.
For the second time in as many months, there is a bird on our screened porch. This time it's a female cardinal. I watched her for a while, as she perched prettily on the edge of the table. She seemed calm. Then. Until Dudley romped out through the open door and onto the porch where he immediately knew something was up! (Alert! Alert! They are coming to kill all us! Dogs can be such drama queens.) So the bird got frantic and started flying all around trying to find the way she came in so she could go out.
The porch is between the house and the firewood. I have to walk through the porch to get to the wood. The bird was flying all around. I thought of this woman and her interesting experiences with birds. I would prefer not to have experiences like that. So I cowered inside the dining room, looking out into the darkness and wondering if the bird had found the door yet.
I know, I know. I should help that poor bird find the door. But it's dark. And I can't see it except when it flies right by my head at like 30 mph. Some help I'd be.
Eh. She found her way in, she'll find her way out.
In the meantime, starting the fire will just have to wait.