The Birds

We've come to an agreement, the birds and I.  They sing and chirp and coo at the crack of dawn while I hide under the covers, taking their name in vain.

For the past 3 days, I've been up, had some good prayer time, enjoyed breakfast and puttered around the house, all before 8.00.  A key fact is that I'm supposed to be on holiday, free from the nagging of clocks and schedules. Nice.

Today I actually had a reason to get up early (two words: blow dry) and counted on the birds to follow their standard routine of predawn cacophony... and guess what?  They were silent. Absent. Decidedly uncacophonous.  I didn't crack an eye open to peer at the clock until nearly 9, which meant a drive-through type bathe, the merest hint of hot air directed at my mop, and a grab-it-and-go approach to wardrobe selection.

Tomorrow can be as indolent as it wants to be, so you can bet that the whole avian chorus will be full-throated by sun rise.  A pox on the birds!