I woke in fear around 5:35 a.m. this morning, looking tentatively at my alarm clock to see how much longer I had until "the noise" started, and felt trepidation when I realized I only had about 30 minutes more to sleep. In preparation for the mini-jackhammer, I shoved my earplugs into my ears and fretfully dozed off, mentally willing the bird to stay as far away from me as possible.
Therefore, you can imagine that I was positively amazed when my alarm went off at 8:30 a.m. without me even once having heard a trace of the woodpecker.
For a few moments I thought maybe my landlord had actually done something about the vent pipe, but when I checked outside, I saw that it was still standing without anti-bird measures.
This means either:
a) my fierce mental powers thwarted "the dark force,"
b) the bird is dead (my personal hope),
or
c) the bird was gathering its strength today in preparation for an all-out assault planned for Friday morning
If this is the case, I really might need to take some military-style action a la George Peppard, as was suggested in response to my last "all-out war" blog entry:
Take this, BIRD!!!
And since I'm never beyond totally embarrassing myself, I thought I would give you a glimpse of me in "military mode":
I was actually trying to look tough and mean (ugly goes without saying) during "survival week" at boot camp in 1995. I have no idea what is going on with that ridiculous "dew rag" on my head or the mini-axe in my clasp, but I am quite certain that I look more like a "special needs" kid (or a dyke) than a warrior. Hmm, or do I look more like a white Aunt Jemima? Flapjacks anyone?
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