lindorm (lindorm) wrote,

Not my house, not my birds

I'm house-sitting for a friend, a big, airy house with a big, lush garden - and two tiny, noisy birds. Taking care of somebody else's house is strange. Nothing is familiar and still a lot is as you would've had it, were it your own house. The cutlery and the glasses are in the expected places, but not the dishwasher detergent or spices (this time in a thin drawer under the ceramic stove). The bed feels funny and the chair by the desk won't fit your lower back, but all in all it's like a vacation but with a homey feel to it. I can't decide if the birds add to, or subtract from the feeling.

These birds are of the chatty type. Two tiny birds, one blue and one green, with high-pitched song and a constant talking twitter, pretty to look at but oh, so annoying at five in the morning. According to my friend they usually hop into their cage in the evening, and then my friend put a blanket over them and they are silent until the blanket is removed. But since they've been on their own for a few days before we came to live here over the weekend they've decided that they're now wild animals and cages are not for them. They take turns going into the cage for food and water while the other one sits guard outside, watching me and Sweetest for any movement. If we come close they scream at us and fly up to their branches, mounted on a wall next to the cage. At no time during the weekend have they both been in the cage.

The consequence seem to be happy birds that sing and talk all the time, non-stop, from half past five in the morning until the sun sets and it gets dark around eight or nine in the evening, which would be nice if it didn't also mean that I was sleep-deprived and a bit jittery during my re-write. They just never shut up. It's lucky for them that they are so cute, and that they are somebody else's birds.

In other news, the second book is coming along, not as fast, not as easy and not as perfect as I would've wanted, but still.
Tags: Särskild
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