This one struck a nerve...LOL.

Been a busy week. I thought I did many more orders than I did do, when I added them up tonight. It seemed like I never had a break, except for lunch, on most of the days.

Tuesday Scott came. He figured the same thing I had: having been sprayed, baited, and dusted from under the fridge and the stove, the invasion had taken refuge in the dead square between the sink and the dishwasher. While we were talking, a brown-striped roach scuttled out. He got the message and treated...a lot. He dusted so much that when he closed the door to the dishwasher, a cloud of dust rose up like talcum powder. He opened the back door so Schuyler wouldn't get sick and I kept it open until late in the afternoon.

Later on I rinsed off the sink and anything else that had been in the area, cleaned the crumbs out of the toasters. When James came home and started to cook, a mass exodus started from under the sink. I killed at least a half-dozen of each variety. There were baby brown-stripes inside the little scale we use when we portion the meat. Ick.

A co-worker told me Monday, "Well, this is the South. Everyone's house has roaches." Right. Just what I wanted to hear.

That night I had horrible nightmares and woke up screaming. Sigh.

Next day neither Willow nor Schuyler suffered adverse effects from the persistent scent of cloves from the kitchen. Scott has pets himself and is very sensitive to other pet owners' concerns. I, on the other hand, sneezed all day.

Miss Schuyler has quite a good time for herself during the day. She is clambering up, playing with all her toys, jingling the bells and going in and out of the rings. She has discovered the top perch and, more importantly, the upper swing, which is the highest perch in the cage. The lower swing has become her "buddy." She sleeps next to it, fluffed and content. She is a prodigious scolder and we also whistle back and forth to each other. Sometimes I can come up next to the cage and she will stay relaxed and even whistle to me.

Other times she still flattens her feathers and her eyes grow huge. And she will have no truck with my finger.

I keep thinking the shyness is due to her being female, but all the female budgies I've known were feisty little things, like Adrian at Smyrna Police Distributors and Kay-Kay, Norm's budgie on GEnie's bird group.

I am concerned if she can't be tamed and happy with our company in time for vacation that we will have to board her instead of bringing her with us. And how will I get her into the carry box if she isn't feeling well or she is hurt? It will panic her more.

I did receive an aggravating message from the library: a book that has been in release less than thirteen months cannot be borrowed in an Interlibrary Loan. So one of the three books I have requested I will not be able to get for another year, and both Henry Jenkins books that I want also fall within that period. Sigh.

Labels: birds, books, insects, pets, work

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 9:40:00 PM

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