I expected it to be warm up here in the summer time. I don't have air conditioning and I don't plan on figuring out how one would fit in the french windows I have in this place. That being said, I must invest in a fan sometime soon. The lack of air circulation in here is managable during these early days of June, but if it continues being 80 degrees for the next three months, I'm going to have to take steps to make this place have some generator of cool air that is not my fridge.
How annoying and perfectly Minnesotan of me. Was it only three months ago I was complaining about the bitter winter that wouldn't end? And here it is, over and done with; the sun is out, the snow is melted, and I'm sitting here hemming and hawing about the heat that hasn't even been here for a week. I'm scrapping my complaints and will just focus on the fact that I need a fan up here. I don't need it to be 15 degrees again. That is a stupid temperature that is not welcome here. Unless it's January. Then it can happen but that's only because it's supposed to happen in January and if I'm perfectly honest, I get a little creeped out if it doesn't get that cold in the winter.
I digress. The heat is an obvious and expected summer consequence of living on the second floor of a building that was erected 80 years ago. The not so obvious and unexpected summer consequence that has been made blaringly apparent to me over this weekend is that of the birds, blog. The birds.
They wake up at 5:30 every morning and as a result, so do I. That is when the chirping begins. Oh, how pleasant, you think. You wake up to the melodious tunes of nature right outside of your window every day. How mother nature of you. Yes, it can be pleasant, but I don't need to be up at 5:30 in the morning. In fact, I hate waking up extra early because then I get ready for my day and have extra time before I need to leave for this or that and then I get bored and agitated because I could still be sleeping. So when they wake me up at 5:30, I do just that. I try to go back to sleep. Turns out, going back to sleep is tricky when birds are incessently chirping right outside of your window. But so it goes in the morning. I'm usually out of here by 7:30 anyway so it's not like I have to listen to them all day or anything.
Unless it's the weekend and I have no plans. Then I might end up listening to them all day.
Did you know that birds don't only incessently chirp in the morning, but they do so all day long and into the evening as well? I believe they are currently on hour 14 of chatting away about whatever birdly activities they've been up to today. Seriously birds. What the hell do you have left to say?
"Oh, it's so fun being a bird. Look at me fly, other birds."
"Hey, I made a nest out of twigs and grass and random garbage!"
"I laid an egg! Bitchin'!"
The chirping is also amplified because my window faces the apartment building right next to mine and thus a corridor is created where they prance around all day bouncing their bird sounds off the bricks. Sometimes they'll even fly right up to my window and hang out for a minute or two. It's almost as if they're talking directly to me. What am I, Princess Aurora lost in the woods? Are you guys trying to tell me that that woodsman is actually a prince and I'm really a princess? What's that birds? Watch out for Malificent and her evil spinning wheel! Whatever do you mean? Oh birds! You're so knowledgeable!
|You guys going to bed anytime soon? You're getting annoying.|
The easy fix to this bird problem would be to just shut my windows. But of course, that would leave my apartment especially sweltering. So I take the good with the bad and keep the fresh air flowing throughout the 400 square feet I call home and let the sounds of urban nature fill its confines. After awhile my ears and mind grow used to the chirping and chattering anyway and I kind of just block it all out of my present being. Of course, once I'm snapped out of that self-induced bird-ignoring trance, it's really hard to get back to into it.
Shhh blog. I think they are growing tired. They're like the fucking energizer bunny all day long, but come 8 or 9 o'clock they grow weary of the fun they've had with their aimless flying, nest building, and attempts to warn me of danger and begin to hunker down for the evening. This leaves me with a few nighttime hours of quiet and solitude, which I take in with the utmost appreciation. It's almost as if I am their mother and once they go to sleep for the night, mama gets out the vodka and enjoys some time to herself.
But between the heat and the birds, this apartment is a great one. I love how small it is here and my desk is right by my window. And while the view isn't so great and the sounds outside can drive me a little nutty, there's something incredibly quaint about writing in you blog, and glancing over to opened french windows that reveal the outside banter of sparrows, traffic, drunks, and people taking out their garbage. What a nice little romantic life this can be.