Death be not proud

Or at the very least be not on my window.

A bird died flying into one of my office windows. Suicide? Maybe. Not likely murder, as I can't imagine what some other bird with evil intent could make it fly with such force into a window. Because my goodness, there was a lot of force. The thing left a mark.

I'm sure you're thinking "big baby, so it left a smudge on your window". You're not getting the picture. It was, actually, almost a picture instead of a mere smudge. The greasy outlines of not just body, but outspread wings. You could even see a beak mark on the head bit. This dude - birdman - must have hit it at a pretty high speed. Drunk flying?

Due to a week of frustration, when the sun today cast a bird shaped shadow onto my desk I lost my mind. Or my ability to cope with things, at any rate. Wierd orange cleaner in one hand and non-absorbent paper towels in the other (you know the kind, the ones they're always putting in bathroom paper towel dispensers that never actually dry anything) I went out and washed it off myself. Should have done it last week, but what can I say? I kept hoping someone else would do it. It was all just a little creepy.

You know what I'm not doing? Removing the carcass. The weird thing is, to me at least. lawn-mowing guy was here on Monday and he didn't do anything either. He cut the grass, of course, and with a leave blower made sure there wasn't a speck of cut grass or dried leaf anywhere on the lawn. I guess bloated rotting bird carcass is ok as decoration, 'cause he left it right where it was.