Meet the Parents

Not my parents — my father (whom I’d never met but did get to see just before they closed the casket at his funeral) went on to his next life a long time ago, mom has gone on to hers as well.

The parents I’m speaking of are the parents of the soon to be baby birds nesting in the eaves over my head.

There has been much cooing, many flyovers and sightings last few days.

I’ve spotted the parents on the roof, caught a parent leaving poop on the patio wall and one day, as smaller birds were hoovering and flying by, I’d swear I was witnessing a baby shower.

Dental procedures off my mind, I was out of bed early this morning, feeling a new lease on life.

Hearing cooing, I opened the blinds, expecting to see the parents on the roof again. Instead, I caught them grocery shopping — the early bird catching the worm so to speak.

With the parents out shopping, the eggs or baby birds — whichever gestation period they’re in, are home alone.

The parents better not leave them alone too long because twice this week I’ve seen lizards climbing up the side of the wall by the stairs, making it all the way up to, over and onto the roof.

Is it because the lizards know the nest is up there? Are they after the eggs, the baby birds, or the food the parents are stockpiling?

I don’t know what lizards eat, but I suspect one item on their food list are crickets because, now that the complex is overrun with lizards, we no longer have a problem with crickets.

With two packages to pick up today, one near the Farmer’s Market ... which meant I’d likely end up there, drinking coffee, listening to music, I headed out.

First stop was the corner UPS Store — and not because I wanted to, but because I had to. A book I’d ordered was dropped off at that location rather than in my mailbox or on the doorstep.

As for why I avoid that location it's because the young girls who work there are slow and sooooooo friggin stupid. I mean honestly, not even funny stupid. They just grate on my last nerve and, looking at their Yelp reviews, it’s not just me.

One day, I was at the counter for 30 minutes as the cashier hunted around on her screen, pecked at this key that key, kept calling someone over to look at her screen, help her out. Once she figured it out, she wanted to charge me $200 for shipping.

I declined, drove to the post office, was in/out in 10 minutes @ $14.

After that time, I never again went in to ship anything out, but thought just buying a mailer now and then would go okay.

It didn't.

I walked in one day, picked up one of their mailers, walked up to the cashier, put it on the counter to pay for. She picked it up, looked at it, flipped it over to look at the other side, looked at me like she didn’t know what I was doing at the counter, then asked "Do you want to buy this?"

I was tempted to say, "No. I'm standing here because I want to steal it" but, stupid as she seemed to be, she'd have called the cops, reported a robbery in progress.

There’re three girls, all about the same age, so I figure one is the manager, two are friends she’s given a job to, and all are so stupid that, except for having no choice today, that was the last time I set foot in the store.

I walk in, say, "I have a pickup", give the girl the notice that says in big bold letters “Your Package is Ready for Pickup” and details the store’s address, also in big bold letters.

She looks at the notice, flips it over to look at the back side, then gives me a blank look and asked, "You want a copy?"

Honestly, there’s just no fixing stupid.

Remainder of the day went well. I picked up my other package, stopped by the Farmer’s Market for a few.

No music today, just a lot of delicious looking food and snacks I can't have.

Hood Corn isn't anything I'd eat, even if I could, but it must be good because there was a long line of folks waiting to buy.

No music, nothing I could eat, so I bailed and instead headed to Sprouts for a few gluten-free items.

There I heard music I could have listened to for hours.

The wording on his donation box said something to the effect "For food, for living" and indicated he’d take cash donations, Zelle or Cash App (money transfers).

How that would work for a street performer I do not know, but I thought it quite genius of him to think of it.

Old people are coming out of retirement to deliver pizzas, bag groceries, and this guy is working his musical talent, while young people fully capable of working are opting to steal, do street robberies or, like the one grandson I bitched about, pimp his grandma with that story of "Grandma, I’m trying to work, go to school, can you help me out". Which I did (@$1,800 to "catch up on bills"), only to later learn he was not working, not trying to go to school, and had the audacity to hit me up again two weeks later.