Early this morning, M. left to catch her 6:30 am flight. She stayed with me over the weekend for a college friend’s wedding. She hadn’t changed much in physical appearance. Her hair was shorter and she was dressed a lil more age appropriately, and her clothes seemed to fit her better. Then again, how many teens and kids ever find clothes which suit them? We were on the same Eighth grade Blue team, in the same homeroom and in some of the same classes. I’d never considered her a friend while in school, and most of our conversations had revolved around school and academia. Though we were on the same Mock Trial team and competed at Drake for State Finals, on one or two occasions she came to my house and I went to hers. Likely for a class project. She was still awkward and ungraceful in her manner and her conversation, but a little less so.
There was mention of the good ole days. Surprisingly for once, I wasn’t feeling nostalgic. I turned the conversation for us to fill in what we’ve been doing with ourselves since those days of yesteryear. Somewhat relieved I wouldn’t have to do much entertaining, nor financial juggling to entertain. I ended up staying up late Saturday evening. Conflicted over a specific boy, I’ll dub B3. I heard M. rise and use my private bathroom, and gather her things and head out the door. I woke in time to hear my roommate next to me make a trip to the bathroom, and I thought shower. The half chihuahua, half mutt was asleep at the foot of my bed. I heard rustling. Disregarding it as the cat, I roused to use the bathroom, make a trip to the kitchen for a drink, and to see if my roommate was indeed in the shower or if I could stake first claim to the hot water. As I am just about to pass my open door and use the bathroom, I hear my roommate. I’m too groggy to actually hear. Must have been something to the effect of ‘watch out, it’s coming your way.’ I look out in the hall and my roommate is in a worn, faded t-shirt and shorts, holding a black fleece, hooded jacket like a lazy, improperly trained bullfighter. I look from him to the spot on the floor where his gaze is. I find a pigeon walking around, bobbing its’ head.
Here it comes, towards me. I tries to spring into flight, for a second, but decides to resume it’s tour into my room and then my bathroom. I half heartedly wave in it’s general direction and mumble something about ‘have at it, good luck,’ signifying to my roommate it is okay to follow it and rodeo it in my room. The pigeon had made it 4 feet into my room, and I had nearly tripped on it. By now the dog has caught on and trying to get in on the action, but staying a couple feet away. I pause briefly to consider if I should help to coral and corner it. I reason no. I go down the hall and continue to satisfy my thirst. I come back and the roommate and the bird are in my bathroom. I close all the doors to bedrooms and the main bathroom the male roommates share. I then go into the living room and open the front door. Who knows, maybe we will get lucky, it will see the bright streaming sunlight, and walk right out.
I walk back and the roommate is still with the black fleece jacket and the pigeon is still walking around. It considers the open door. The dog’s excitement makes it go to the corner, under and behind the couches. The roommate can’t see it, so I get down on the floor to find it. I know it’s in the far corner, and then I see it bobbing between the wall and the couch. I grab the broom from the laundry room thinking I’ll scare it out, but the roommate wants to run the show, and I have no problem letting him. All I can think about is how many diseases birds carry. Should I be worried about bird flu? I’m just starting to get over some sinus and cold crud. It would be just my luck to get bird flu from some random bird the cat decided to bring in.
The roommate’s tactics work, and the pigeon indeed bobs its head with beady eyes, and walks out. I noticed a slight limp or hesitancy, from what I assume is where the cat clamped it’s fangs into it.
Satisfied that was the end of it, we each returned to our particular routines. He showered, and I ate breakfast to wait for my turn. Even though I have a private bathroom, given the state of the house, I’m sure it’s to my own personal comfort to not shower at the same time since my bathroom is the furthest away from the water heater/furnace and my roommate enjoys long showers as much as I do.
I downloaded photos off of my compact flash memory card. I showered, dressed, and headed out to explore the State Fair desert style. It was good, more carnival than fair. I perused 3 of 5 exhibit buildings. Indulged in Indian Fry Bread with honey, a native American woven purse, and stumbled upon a great collectible frog salt and pepper set for my step-mother.
When I returned in the evening I walked in to find the living room and the hall generously decorated with pigeon feathers. Apparently the cat and the chihuahua decided to have a rematch with the pigeon from this morning. I chuckled and mentally scolded the animals. As I debated on the best way to clean up the evidence, I amused myself with envisioning the scenario.