abandoned entry - apr. 18

[lastweek]

Glanced at the clock at 11:11 (I've been doing that again and again). Soon after, a bird flew into our office. A cockatiel, panicked and lost, losing its feathers, frantically excited over human contact. The entire way home, it made sexy whistles at me through the perforated box. And now it sits in a borrowed cage on the floor of our living room; fate unknown.

Cough is gradually getting better. Always on hand, assembled together, an arsenal of antibiotics, Robitussin, Gatorade, water, and now zinc tablets (courtesy of my boss).

Comments

[kieu.livejournal.com]

Cute little bird! Is his fate known yet?

[lastweek.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure. I don't really want a bird, but I don't know what else to do with it. And he's pretty nice, though a little grumpy at bedtime. I can already tell when he wants to go to sleep (he sits in a certain corner of his cage and tucks his right foot up into his belly). And he doesn't like Leisy too much, and will respond to my whistles if I'm not in the room. And he lets me pet his head. But I don't really want a bird. And Alex hates birds. So I'm not sure.

[theonlyfactor.livejournal.com]

11:11 is less ominous than 11:45. That's when I always look at the clock. Everything sucks