The end of summer exploits of Hamilton, the cat

On Sunday night as I typed (studied math actually) on the computer I heard "chirp". "How strange," I thought, "Now just how could I have a bird chirping in here and the air conditioning was on".

So I reluctantly removed my tuchus from the chair and went to see (what I could see--just like that famous bear who went over the mountain). No singing please.
Lo and behold mid math problem (mine, not the bird's) some forlorn small bird had come to roost, on of all places, my living room window sill (obviously not the one with the air conditioning unit below it (like some bird could really tolerate that farshtunkena noise).
Poised to explore and torment there was she was, the ever ferocious Hamilton, my (add your own adjective, here) cat attempting to paw the bird through the closed glass window and screen and so scaring the bird into a shutter. Hamilton sneezed and pawed and meowed and I called my mother and the wildlife rehabilitation people. The bird cowered in the corner of the sill and the window. I watched. In case you did not know, PA wildlife rehabilitators do not take or return after hours calls.
So after dark, when my mother tired of looking at the bird and it became too dark to see it I finally lowered the shade and protected the bird from Hamilton's gaze. Of course, that did not deter her from trying and prying to get through the blinds. She continued to jump up on the window sill and then off and then up again and sneeze, image what a nose full of bird smell could do to the unpracticed olfactory lobes of an indoor cat?

After some time (and viewing Mad Men) I called it a night.
Upon awaking in the morning, I checked the sill only to find bird poop (a metaphor for something, no doubt) Hamilton lay about the floor seemingly not having any recall of the prior evening's excitement.
When mother called I informed her that the bird had flown the sill -- you were expecting maybe, the coop?
She told me to be sure and check the area underneath the sill and I told her would later in day (more algebra awaited).
When I did check I only saw a feather on the grass beneath the ledge which I took as a good sign, at the time.
Alas, a day later as I walked the length of the driveway the flattened bird lay amidst the drive way parking spaces.

WORD OF CAUTION: Neither this ending nor the story yet to come should be taken as metaphors.

So today (THURSDAY) I began to clean the childrens' rooms, they have been away all summer and I have been pretending those rooms do not exist. It went pretty well until today. I began in the lair of eldest (my boy/man, soon to be off for the trimester in Israel)hoping it would be an easier clean and tidy than in the beauty saloon (that by the way is NOT a typo). He has inherited, unbeknownst -yet- to him a new book shelf and so I was eager to dedust (you cannot even begin to imagine) and load up those shelves with school work and papers for him to sort through and throw out. Right now, I am sending up a silent prayer: please Hashem, that must happen before he leaves for Israel. So I cleaned. I dusted, I hate to dust, and there was a powerful amount of dust there. And then I knew I would have to remove the linens and do a load of laundry and remake the bed (I am so loathe to tell you how much I paid a therapist this morning to tell me that I did not have to do this, I just will not--you can figure it out on your own).
Guess which of my favorite pets had used the bed for the litter box?

Do you think she is mad at me or him?
It is UNKNOWN to me how long this has been there.
It wasn't so fresh, if you get my drift.

You can just guess how eager I am to clean the beauty saloon now.
Did I mention that I have a LOAD of math to do?

Off I go...

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