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One Fell into the Cuckoo’s Nest

May 2, 2012

Sometimes I’m left to ponder how in the hell I ever managed to graduate college with honors. This past week is a prime example of such a time. The only explanation I can come up with is that I was smart way back then and my brain has just corroded over the course of having four children. Every time I’m forced to answer “what’s for dinner?” multiple times a day, a little piece of what used to be a stellar mind dies.

It all started last Thursday. I kept hearing this weird sound coming from the kitchen all day long. It sounded as if a very large bird had found its way into my kitchen and was suffering from some acute illness that was sucking the very life from it. After a few hours, I was able to pinpoint the area from which it was coming – right around the kitchen table which also has a wall of windows. Thinking I had the mystery solved, I rushed outside with a baseball bat to put said bird out of it’s misery protect myself from the Jurassic sized bird that would undoubtedly attack me and peck my eyes out. After an exhaustive search around the perimeter of my backyard, I still could not locate the source of the mystery sound.

Halfway through Friday, this sound was getting on my last nerve and I was almost hoping for Jurassic bird to come and peck my eyes out or at the very least use its massive beak to rip my ears to shreds. I finally mustered enough courage to head to the basement, again with my trusty baseball bat and phone (in case I needed to call for help or take pictures, I’m not sure which). If the dying bird wasn’t outside, then surely it was inside, I reasoned. I rushed into my oldest son’s room, S.W.A.T. team style screaming Karate noises for good measure. Nothing. No big ass dying bird to be found.

Naturally, the only other thing I could think to do for the rest of the evening was make some cocktails and turn up my iPod really loud to drown out the death throes of Aves Raptor Giganticus, who was probably sent from beyond to avenge the death of the buzzard I killed a few years ago. After a couple of hours at home Saturday morning, I was actually happy to spend the rest of the day at the ball park sitting in the peace and quiet of my SUV watching baseball from afar (hey, it was cold and rainy — don’t judge) because I was sick of hearing Jurassic bird’s dying shrieks which seemed to come every hour on the hour like clockwork.

It wasn’t until Monday when I was making my bowl of Special K (yes, I’m back on that crap again) that I finally realized the source of my mystery dying bird sound – the As Seen on TV Singing Bird Clock. Well, at least I got the bird part right. What used to be a fun game of guessing the time by determining which bird you just heard, had turned into FIVE days of living hell carrying around a ball bat in fear of losing an eye or a nose (hey, I only have one of those) because I was unaware that if you don’t periodically change the battery in the thing-a-mob that controls the sweet sounds of little happy birds chirping, it turns into something that sounds like Satan knocking on your door.

In other words, I’m a dumb ass. So grab a cocktail and tell me about some of your dumb ass moments. Misery does love company…and Grey Goose.

8 Comments leave one →
  1. May 2, 2012 12:37 pm

    That picture is exactly how I feel.

    • May 2, 2012 3:53 pm

      Haha!! Me too, most days. Thanks for stopping by 🙂

  2. May 2, 2012 7:29 pm

    Helle, At this stage of the game, I’ve had more dumbass moments than normal ones. But reading your post reminded me of a stellar moment. Here’s a link, if you get a chance:

    It should make you feel better. Wow, I really want one of those clocks!

    • May 3, 2012 12:04 pm

      Haha! I’m starting to feel the same way about dumb ass vs. normal moments. Thanks for sharing your moment — it did make me feel better! As for the clock, I think you can pick one up at your local Walmarts, or even Walgreens and of course there is always Ebay. Or I could send you mine. Still haven’t changed the battery though. 😀

  3. May 3, 2012 4:11 am

    When animals in (or in proximity to) the house are involved, it’s totally acceptable to become irrational. Like the time I called the cops because there was a chipmunk loose in my house. (they actually came out).

    Since you ask here’s my offering:

    • May 3, 2012 12:09 pm

      Who knew you could call the cops because wild animals were in your house? Wish I had known that 10 years ago. I’ve had a mole, several bats, huge black bird, mice, and snakes in my house since I’ve lived in the country. Thankfully, the bison and deer have stayed outside. So I read your blog — thanks for sharing. I’m feeling much better about myself. But I have to know, did the smell ever go away and is your wife still living with you? 😉

      • May 3, 2012 5:41 pm

        I think the cops were having a quiet day so they sent out a car. It was hilarious. The guy was cocky at first but when we went down the basement and could hear but not see the thing running around wildly he got even more scared than me. Yes, two grown men, one with a gun, afraid of a chipmunk. He was no help but when we went back up and he was holding the back door open as we chatted, the chipmunk came rocketing up the stairs and out into the night.

        Thanks for reading! Yes, the smell seems to be gone and I only get extra supervision when packing up a load for transport.

      • May 3, 2012 6:02 pm

        Hahahaha!! I think maybe your wife should start a blog….

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