For the birds

This post was unplanned and super spur of the moment:

I was just out in the laundry room switching around some clothes. I could hear rain outside the back door. It's Florida in April, so this is normal.

I came in from sun bathing  just in time.


What am I getting at? Something I wish I would have heard sooner. Something I wish I would have listened to sooner.

The birds were singing. In the rain.

Ok, I've had 2 raspberry vodka lady drinks but sometimes that's what it takes to get my best ideas to make it to my finger tips.

So, the birds are singing in the rain. Hell, it's thundering out there, too!

So, if the birds can sing in the rain, then why can't I? When everything has gone to shit, there's got to be something to be thankful for.

Go sing.

I can't read numbers!

How about that! I spend all my time reading, reading and reading beautiful works of literature and I can't read a stinkin' number! When I ordered the cockateil feathers I didn't read the description completely. I read the words and skipped over the numbers! I received two of them (that part I got right) but I was expecting them to be at least twice the size they are... 1 7/8" inches! Not even 2 inches!

The first thought that came to my silly head was, "Dang! That bird must be a teacup bird or something!" Then I remembered birds are teacup sized anyway. Hahaha

I'd google the bird to see how big they are but I don't feel like giving myself the willies over it. (Birds,  eeeck!) I just always thought those big, scary birds they have out at the pet stores were cockateils.

Oh, well. The tiny feathers are still usable! Then, I ripped open the other package that came in today thinking it had my macaw feathers in it (and I would be ecstatic because that means they were shipped earlier than expected) and there was a stinkin' camera strap. Not for me! Anyhoo, back to work! I'm starting a paper on Shelley's Frankenstein and one of Blake's poems.