I was sitting here, checking my email, getting ready to write a nice patriotic blog about how awesome America is and how I'm grateful for our troops and the Founding Fathers when I hear this noise. It sounds like the people upstairs have dropped 5-6 wicker baskets onto my porch (think rustling and a small "crash"). Whatever, they're always doing weird stuff like that. I keep hearing this rustling sound outside my front door though. I take a look through the peep hole, nothing. I still keep hearing the noise. So I tiptoe to my window that overlooks my porch...
Crazy huh? I was so freaked out that I woke up Matthew to see it. Then I grabbed the camera to have him film it. That was 15 minutes ago or so. I heard a rustle and a squeak of some sort a minute or two back. They're still there! Matthew said the pidgeon wasn't dead yet. He is checking and sweeping the porch before we go ANYWHERE today.
Back to our wonderful nation. I'm trying to see this experiance as a metaphor. I can't really come up with one though. Instead I invite you to go through my archives and read an older post that still reflects how I feel. I wrote it when I was a little more NORMAL. ;) I hope everyone has a happy and safe holiday too!
3 years ago