If You’re Mad at Us, Just Tell Us
First there was leek. Then half a mandarine, partly rotten. Then on Thursday a dead dove. We’re either really unlucky or someone really hates us and has a really creative way of showing it by throwing stuff on our terrace, increasing the ewww-factor each time.
Also, why is it that while the husband watches all those gory horror movies, I am the one who has to pick up a dead bird. In the dark. With rain pouring down on me, desperately trying to cling to my umbrella, stuffing everything that is slightly red into a plastic back. Yep. Yuck. I know. But, hey, somebody has to do it, and if the husband’s unwilling to even go out there then it’s pretty much up to me. Because no-one else lives here. Thanks, Universe. Thanks a whole lot for, yes, basically nothing.