A Day In The Day Of

"I believe that the best way to prepare for a Future Life is to be kind, live one day at a time, and do the work you can do best, doing it as well as you can.” – Elbert Hubbard

Sleep last night was impossible.  Between tossing and turning, my bastard cats got the zoomies and I kept hearing things crash to the floor and guitar strings thrum as if being pulled by razor sharp pitiless claws, which they were.  At 6 I gave up, got up, started the coffee maker and showered.  Thank God the mirror was fogged up and I couldn't see my reflection, moribund old rabbits are not at a premium here and I get enough of that at Walmart.  I got dressed, selected the day's boots, straightened my ears and tail, and then fed my demon kitties.  I sat down and went through my internet routine, answering messages here on DA and reading the left wing news sites I am so addicted to.  I then went out to the porch and had my first smoke of the day, it was cold and bright and anyone else would have been cheered by such a lovely morning.  Not me, Hell no.  I kept looking for the coral snake I inexplicably let live and then remembered that I had lost my driver's license, without which no one may be able to buy cigarettes and alcohol, except he who is having the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Great.  Happy Halloween, Thumper, how's that adulthood thing working out for you?
We have two Great Blue Herons to feed and medicate, both probable casualties of car impacts.  It is very rare for a Great Blue to survive more that a couple of days in captivity and we have had both of these for weeks.  They occupy our only two cages in the hospital large enough to hold them which means that dosing them and cleaning their cages is a two person job.  I fed the goose and the ducks and the doves and the pelicans and then went inside for the heron fun.  I always wear a full face shield after one of them stabbed me in the temple with that needle sharp beak.  The younger heron had diarrhea, wild birds are nasty at best and this guy was above and beyond.  He had tossed his fish around the cage and in general was a sanitation nightmare.  I threw a towel over him, grabbed his wings and beak, and brought him to the autopsy table we use for exams and such.  This took half an hour and we still had one Blue to go.  The other is full grown, grouchy, and it's a rodeo bringing him to the table.  He ripped open both my hands and got me twice with his beak before I could get him calmed down, i.e., immobilized.  I pried his sawtooth beak open and we got his meds in him, I held him while my boss changed his floor pads.  When I brought him back to the cage he got loose and struck me with his beak and I threw him into the cage, earning myself a rebuke but saving my eyes, or so I told myself.  I mopped the floor and went outside for a smoke.  I spent the rest of the day winterizing pelican cages while being attacked by clumsy, clownish water birds without a smidgen of gratitude or affection for those keeping them alive.  About two I went home and my cats curled around my feet as I looked at the vase smashed into grit strewn across the floor.  I ate a light lunch of cold Spam and generic Mexican crackers and fell asleep.  10 minutes later I received a phone call, it seemed that one of the pipes had burst and water was a'bubbling across a walkway.  I got that sorted out and was about to go back to the house and pass out when we were told to stand by for a pelican with a hole in it's throat.  I cleaned out a cage for him and after an hour it turned out that no one could catch the bird so we stood down.  I went back to my place and fed the cats again.  Then the guys building the education center started up with the nail guns so I
watched the ceiling fan revolve until they finished.  I went outside to view the sun going down from the front porch while I had another cigarette, I was feeling mellow and almost happy when something inside shattered, very loud, and I remembered that I had not secured my latest thrift store find, a porcelain unlicensed Felix knock off that dated to the twenties.


Sometimes I think that life is a long, slow, dull forced march to the grave.

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