Called in sick today.

You jump to conclusions, readers. I am sick. Truly. I am sick of it. 

It: the ongoingness, the never-endingness, the constant hum of electrons in the cords snaking their way to screens and printers, depleting power as much as they give, if not more so.

At my domicile, there’s an electric stove where I cook canned goods, and there are lights and power outlets, but besides those and my Liquid Crystal Display, I devote my time and space at home to the sounds of my heartbeat, branches breaking underfoot within a one-mile radius, and violently crashing glass once a week when the recycling is taken away to who knows where.

I live an almost reclusive life here, not nearly as social as when I’m in the office.

Ha.

I live in a condominium building, and that is as much as I’ll tell you about its outward looks.

On this idle Tuesday I stared out the window and watched a squirrel and three birds fight for territorial rights over a neighbor’s feeder. The feeder is full of seeds and was only ever intended for the birds. And yet, here was a squirrel, flightless and graceless, with a clear upper hand over the supply.

The three birds, song sparrows all and impressive in their movements, were failing in their efforts to overtake the seeds. They dive-bombed and hung in the air with ease, and yet proved relentlessly ineffective in their stand.

And that is how this story ends…were it not for the graceless squirrel.

Gloating, cocky, and fat on seeds, the witless rodent hoisted himself lopsided atop the faded yellow feeder and plunged, petard first, to the courtyard below. With a few quick turns though, the squirrel was able to right its weight, surprisingly, and land flawlessly on a small patch of astroturf. The little rascal could have given Mikhail Baryshnikov a run for his rubles.

The three sparrows, jubilant in their victory, formed a mid-air winner’s pyramid for just a moment. And then they went about pecking at the spoils of war.

Talk is cheap. But so are seeds.

Tomorrow is recycling day, so bright and early the glass will crash. I’ll awake, then look out the window to note the level of feed in the feeder. High or low, I’ll be back at the office at 7:55am.

-Janet