Our stairs to the second story have two large windows set high up on adjacent walls.  I was walking up the stairs Sunday, just having arrived home after a family weekend away.  I looked under one of the windows and noticed something splattered on the wall.  “That’s funny,” I mused, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say that looked just like bird poop.”  Of course, that’s ridiculous, because there would never be a bird in my house.  I loathe birds.  They’re dirty.  They’re noisy.  They have lice.  Bird poop.  Funny.

I put away whatever it was I was carrying upstairs then proceeded to head downstairs.  From that vantage point I had a clear view of the window sills.  The window sills splattered with poop.  Bird poop.  In my house.


“Husband?” I called.  “Can you come here, please?” 

“Yes, wife.”

“What does that look like to you, husband?”

“I don’t know?”

“Does it look like bird poop?  Does it look like bird poop IN MY HOUSE?”

“Well, yes, actually it does.  That’s funny, because I saw something on the kitchen floor that looked like bird poop.”


Yep.  in my kitchen.  poop.

I could tell you how the bird got in.  If I knew.  I have my suspicions, and they include loving relatives letting out an oaf of a dog and forgetting to close the door all the way. 

in my house.


~ by NinjaPrincess on October 7, 2008.

One Response to “#2”

  1. ewwww. sorry.

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