Me:                            You know what I hate?

You, the dear reader:  Organized religion?

Me:                             No, watching someone repeatedly and compulsively perform

                                   damaging , self-destructive behavior.

Y,TDR:                      Are you sure it’s not organized religion?

Me:                             Nope, I don’t hate organized religion.  Although I can see how you

                                   might get that impression, especially if you’re sensitive.

                                   Now, can we move along?

Y, TDR:                     OK.

Me:                             Shiney.  Well, it all started this morning when…

     I got up and found that there was a robin standing on my deck, looking in at me.  It paced back and forth, occasionally cocking its little head and getting it’s eye right up to the glass and peering around.  Every once in a while, it would peck at the glass.  Then, it started flying at the glass, pulling up at the last second, and smacking into my sliding glass door.  It did this several times, and then took a break to march back and forth again for a while…and then started up again with the flying into the glass.

     I figured that it was seeing its reflection, and attacking it or whatever, so I tore apart a magazine that was laying around, and taped the pages to the sliding glass door, and went to the gym.

     Now, I’m back, several hours later, and here is that dumb bird repeatedly flinging himself against the picture window.  Not “Thunk!” as in, “I didn’t know the glass was there, and ran into it full-force, head-on, and now I’m dead…but “Thup!” as in “I know the glass is there, and it bothers me, so I’m just going to keep bumping it ‘till it goes away.”

     I would have to hike through the rattlesnake-infested woods to Gerry’s house to borrow a ladder big enough to get me up to the second story picture window in order to tape papers over that window.  Then, one whole side on my house would look like trash, and the stupid bird would probably move on to another window.

     That’s it.  When the kids get home, I’m taking them out somewhere.  I can’t stop this bird slowly bludgeoning itself to death on the window, but I don’t have to watch it either.

     And for those of you who are wondering, no, this is not some clever metaphor for any of the people in my life.  This is a straight story about a ‘sure-nuff Robin that is speeding through life on the short bus.