It's a Bird, It's a Plane, No Wait, It's a Bird, And It's Dead

Yesterday I was happily applying to jobs online (did I say happily? I mean applying and sarcastically saying "Yeah - I'm sure you're real thankful I am applying, jackasses") and I hear a loud BAM right next to me. I look up and see my patio doors covered in blood.

My reaction? To fall out of my chair and try to figure out if the blood was mine while writhing around on the floor. I will not lie - my first thought was Drive By. I had temporarily forgotten that I was living on the top floor of a large building in the far west suburbs of Chicago. You can take the girl out of the southside...

Anyhow, it turns out that a seagull, or possibly a very large pigeon, smashed into my patio door and literally splattered everywhere. There is blood and chunks of bird everywhere.

I fill a bucket full of water, and start to wash the bits over the side, and a little something occurs to me: I am directly above the main walkway for my building, and there are people down there. I am essentially pulling a "Carrie" on the people below. So, I calmly walk back inside, since I do not want to look over the edge and therefore give away that I was the one dumping the blood over the side on them.

For the record, I really feel bad about that. I didn't think before I acted. It's like I am still four years old.

So, I wait about an hour, and try and think of how I can clean this mess of bird remains up off my balcony, without having the chance of bloody water falling over the side onto the walkway below.

Eric has tyvek suits he wears for work. For instance, if he is working on something for a Kosher company, he has a specific box for Dairy and a specific box for meat, and then a general box for everything else. Oh, and a nut box, since that's another thing that cannot be mixed with other stuff.  So, I try and figure out which ones are the "general use" ones.

I think I figure it out, and I get suited up. You know that scene in E.T. where the government comes for E.T. and they are wearing those weird suits? That's essentially what I was wearing, only, you know, without a respirator attached on the back. I get my Swiffer Wet Jet pads, and get to work. It takes me roughly an hour, but I get all the chunks and blood sopped up. Then I take it in a bag to the garbage shoot. The garbage shoot in my building is in a closet, so I enter the closet, dump it down, and walk out.

Right in front of me is a 4 year old (I think - I am not good at guess kid's ages, to be honest.) And I am wearing a full white tyvek suit, face mask and all, and I have smears of blood all over me, as well as blood covering both my hands up to my elbows. (Did you know Seagulls have a lot of blood in them? I didn't - but I do NOW.) And the kid is momentary SHOCKED. And then the screaming starts and the kid runs down the hallway.  I rush back into my condo, and I watch out the peephole as the mother freaks out and runs into the garbage shoot room and looks around for what I can only imagine the child described as a Murderous Bad Man wandering the hallways.

I get back into the kitchen, take off the suit, bag it up, wash the floor, and patiently wait for the police because I was SURE the mother was going to call them. But no. She didn't. And thank God for small favors. I mean, otherwise I would be waiting in a jail cell right now while the police waited for the CSI people tested the blood to make sure it wasn't human. And really, I had already had WAY TOO MUCH excitement for one day anyhow.