So what if it isn't Paris.
This is what happens when I'm stuck inside, wheezing, sneezing and set on coughing up a lung.
My normal attention span of a gnat gets even shorter. Its tether is cinched up tight on my wind pipe, but good.
I'm supposed to be penning something or other about Hot Cross Buns, but seem to have a problem getting down to it. First of all, I don't have anything to say about HCB. Bless it's paper bound, Kindled heart, there ain't nothin' about HCB in me today.
But, the pigeons! They have my attention. Here's how the day(s) played out.
These grey birds, who Parisians drop kick around town on a daily basis, have kept me company all week. Try as I may to work from home, answering e-mails, mostly (Aha moment: Work = e-mail.), this flock has captivated me for hours upon hours. You see, they've encamped on the roof of the Roosevelt, my urban dwelling, and I live on the top floor, so that makes us neighbors. They've pooped on my windows. I don't mind. Downtown Spokane's winter city-scape is actually enhanced by their droppings. Shakes up the drab landscape a little.
So, when I'm not flinching each time they swoop to and from their digs just above my windows, I look at their grey against grey silhouettes. Once I reach complete detachment from work stuff, I tried to get a picture of the little piggies (endearingly pronounced pijjies). Prior to this jail-house take, I knelt on the floor, iPhone posed upward, ready to capture a wheels-up shot. You'da thought I'd never seen a dozen pigeons take flight, I was so patient. So I knelt. Nothing happened. I banged on the window. Nothing. I opened the window and hollered. Nothing. Then, I realized I very likely was going to attract the attention of the ever-so-slightly-a-bubble-off people in the neighboring building who just might ask me over for coffee or meth or something.
I approached another window. I only had to move one it-takes-two-people-to-move chair to get this photo. And this is what I got. What the ?????
Okay, it's not much of a photo, but is does have that grey Paris pigeon look to it, don't you think? I thought so. It also reminded me of my junior year in college, when I went to Paris to see my friend, Carrie. Of course I had to dig out the pictures...
Thanks, pigeons. We killed another day.
And again, I'm reminded why it took six years to write HCB.