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Not sure what this means

By November 10, 2020No Comments

In our house, for reasons I explain more fully inside Happy, Michael has “his” jobs, and I have my jobs.

It works well, most of the time.

He does stuff like chopping firewood and catching fish, and I usually tend to do things like doing laundry and making peppermint slice. It sort of sounds a bit sexist, our jobs list, and maybe it is but as long as the workload is fair I’m not really fussed. Clothes need to get cleaned, wood needs to get chopped, and, occasionally, mice need to be trapped – a job that somehow hasn’t made it on to either of our lists.

Last time we had mice, I asked Michael to do “something about it” and he replied, “Nah, I think they’re just passing through”.

“To where, honey?” I felt like screaming. “Where the f*ck would the mice be going? Are they just stopping over at our house to rest and refuel before continuing on their journey to France?”.

(Also: I said “last time” we had mice which makes it sound like we have mice regularly. We don’t. We’ve had them once. Or twice).

Anyway, like I said, our system usually works.

But last week, Michael was away for work and I was home alone with the boys which meant I had to do his jobs as well as mine.

Chopping wood? Tick.
Taking the garbage out? Tick.
Catching fish for dinner? Nah, we just got pizza.

The next morning, I had all the windows and doors wide open to let in some fresh sea breeze, when a bird flew in on a particularly lovely little gust.

At first I was delighted.

“Hakavai! Rahiti! Look! A little bird friend!” I exclaimed, like a low rent Snow White, wildly holding my kids up to the roof to get a better look.

But then, the bird starting sh*tting.

All over my couch, on Hakavai’s head, on my basket of clean laundry. (That’s a lie, the laundry was dirty. I’d been chopping wood! I was busy!).

And just like that, our delightful little friend had become a delightful little pest.

I tried getting it out with a broom.

I tried “shepherding” it towards the open doors with some tea towels.

I tried capturing it with a kitchen stool and a cardboard box.

It wasn’t budging.

I was annoyed. This was clearly a Michael job!!! How was I supposed to “do it all” with a bird flying all over the place?!

And then the front door opened. Michael was home.

And before he had even said hello, the bird flew out the open window, unprompted, disappearing into the fading sky.

Maybe the bird serves as an allegory, a reminder that we can’t control every element of our lives. Maybe it’s a metaphor for the challenges we face. Maybe it’s symbolic for my inner child, who rails against the confines of daily life.

Or maybe it’s just a story about a bird that flew into my house and created delightful, annoying chaos.

I’ll let you decide.

T x

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