Cali's home sick. Poor guy. He's suffering downstairs with the flock in the bird room. Felix is asleep on his digesting perch I'm sure. It is 3:36pm and he should have polished off his after lunch before dinner snack, snack.
I can hear Butters singing "peekaboo!" Snickers is ringing his bell and growling "RAWR!" Kirby is onto his afternoon repertoire, "Good boy Kirby. chirpachirp chirpachirp, you are a good boy kirbykirby. BruiserBee! Come here. Step up. Gimme a kiss. Hey buddy. What are you doin? Chirpachirpa CHIRP!" The four members of the Horde are whistling loud and proud into their window.
Cali coughs a lung clearing hack and this sends two macaws into fake sneezing and one napping african grey into an impressive set of fake coughs.
I have no idea how Cali can even hear the gun battle on Xbox at all.
Where am I? Upstairs on the laptop writing. I noticed this is the only room in the whole house that isn't scented with bird. I do smell all the creative smells of papers, paints, charcoals, cloth and fiber and clay and wood. It's hard to get started and focused on one thing up here. I could do anything and everything is within reach. It's difficult to choose what happy I prefer. And after I choose I can see what I did not choose out of the corner of my eye.
This must be what a parrot feels like all the time.