Stupid the Sparrow

Here I am at work so bored. So bored that I resorted to my poor, little blog as the receptacle of all my whining. Sorry dude. Right now the thoughts in my head are so molasses-slow that I need to force myself to come up with something even worthwhile to write about. hmmm... bunnies? no. Birds? yes! I hate birds. I hate them with a violent passion that stirs within me every morning. I love sleeping with my window open to allow a cool breeze in the room. I love needing a blanket to stay warm. That is the perfect temperature because when a blanket is a give or take item at night, sleep is just not as great. Right now is the perfect seasonal transition when the days are breezy and warm, but the nights are still pretty cold. This is surely window-opening weather. And I want to savor it because we all know what's coming... Sticky skin, sweat, damp socks, laziness, hating soup, dirty feet, feeling fat because of everyone else being skinnier... ugh! So, most nights, I hike up the window and fall blissfully asleep in my room, climate-controlled by the whims of God. How wonderful! But as soon as, oh, 6 AM rolls around, such a heathen hour!, little Stupid the Sparrow decides it's time to have a party on the branch outside my window. He must be the poor loner sparrow, who no one pays attention to, so he gets attention by piercing the eardrums of the world with his desperate little MEEPS. MEEP!, PEEP!!, SQUEAK!!! Every darn day at 6 am. What is his deal? I have tried screaming at him (this worked with Edina birds, little pipsqueaks). He just keeps meeping away. My wit's end is rapidly approaching from maybe Iowa, where I usually keep my wit's end. Because Iowa is apparently boring and desolate, so my wits won't get into any trouble there unless they run into a pack of coyotes, but now seriously why would a pack of coyotes want to harm my wit's end? What does a wit's end even look like? Surely not like scrumptious meat that a coyote would want? (If you pronounce coyote without the long e, I want to know WHAT IS YOUR DEAL? Do you think your better than me? Sheesh.) So as my wit's end comes closer, assuming the Iowan coyotes didn't want it, I begin to fantasize about shooting the little sparrow. Sounds mean, doesn't it? But if God keeps track of sparrows like how He keeps track of my hair, then taking one sparrow out of commision is equivalent to the worldly effect of plucking an eyebrow hair, right? Eh, Tim, maybe I should be taking logic, since I would obviously win everything. (Do you win stuff in that class?) So if I ever had access to a gun, which seems unlikely because people don't often give me weapons, then I suppose my plan is to kill that little beast. Ugh, but now my sentimental side is coming in. He has a family and a baby on the way, and he needs to support them. He's obviously not getting the job done by sitting outside my window meeping. Maybe I should take him to classes with me, so he can a good-paying job to support his little nest. oof. Enough sentimentality. I don't care what happens as long as he stops his stupid chirping. Do they have mental hospitals for birds (or people who really hate a certain bird and think that their wit's end is coming from Iowa for a visit, and if it's listening: stay in Iowa! I don't want you around.)