Today I am going to finally get around to putting up that birdhouse. The birdhouse has been sitting in its birdhouse box for over three years. Waiting. Waiting patiently to be hung from the branches like a horse thief. What has taken me so long? Any task that involves me going outside takes longer for me to accomplish than inside tasks. That’s because nature wants me dead, so I am reluctant to go outside where I could be killed. Yes, nature wants me dead. I know this because of lightning, hurricanes and meteors; if nature didn’t want me dead, objects entering our atmosphere from outer space would include teddy bears and rainbow sprinkles. But fear of nature can’t be the only explanation since I often turn up my fist to nature and scream “GO AHEAD GIVE ME YOUR WORST!” during thunderstorms and nothing ever happens.
Laziness probably also plays a factor. I am supremely lazy. This results from the fact that I do not like doing things. Even something as wonderful as putting up a birdhouse. No, I do not care for activities. I prefer inactivities, which are things that you do that require little to no effort. Like napping. That’s a great inactivity. So is eating Wheat Thins. You might say, “But eating Wheat Thins requires a little bit of effort since you have to chew them up.” Not the way I eat Wheat Thins. I put them in my mouth one at a time and let my saliva dissolve them to the point where I can swallow their wholegrain mush in one gulp. Yes, there is a tiny expenditure of energy, but so little that I consider it negligible.
Then there’s the fact that I don’t care if the birds live or die. I’m not saying that I have any particular antagonism towards the birds. I’m just saying that whether or not they eat anything is none of my business and not my concern. If all the birds died tomorrow, I probably wouldn’t even notice. At some point somebody would mention that there was no more birdsong. I would say, “I didn’t notice because I’ve been inside.” Then I would go back to not doing whatever I was not doing.
Some people seem to really love birds. Not me. I think they’re okay but certainly no more deserving of food or shelter than any other animal. Why do we make special houses for birds but not for any other animal? Granted, there are doghouses and rabbit hutches. But those are domesticated animals who provide us with companionship and, in the case of rabbits, lucky charms. Birds are wild and undeserving of my love and affection. What have they ever done for me except shit on my patio? Once in a while, we find a dead bird on our property. When that happens, my wife gets upset and asks me to remove it. I hate picking up dead animals because I interpret their death as nature saying to me, “You’re next.”
So the birdhouse has sat in its stupid birdhouse box for three years and even though I started off by saying I was going to put it up today, now I’m so mad at nature and birds that I’m not doing anything of the sort. Those birds can all starve to death as far as I’m concerned. And I hope the birdhouse catches pneumonia. Birdhouses can’t catch pneumonia, but you know what I mean.