Post Earache

I have resurfaced. For a few weeks, the mere heft of dragging my muscles and bones from one room to the other had me flummoxed and exhausted. Velocity stalled, stuttered.

Today I got my appetite back, and coincidentally, said goodbye to the last of my antibiotics. God bless drugs to squelch ear and throat infections.

The dark chocolate with espresso beans is kaput. I gobbled almost an entire small pizza. The bird gnawed at the crust, always using his left food as the grabber, the right foot as the stander. His eating foot always looks like he's making a fist. I love this. Then he bit Jonesy quite hard for having a water bottle too close to his body as he clung to her collar as she drank.

He bites when he's tired, and he was up way past his bedtime, which is 7 or 8, so he can get 12 hours of sleep, like any good tropical bird should. Up an hour or two past his tucked into his box time. I wonder if we left him up as late as he wanted if he would go to bed ever, or crash out in corner like a kid at a slumber party?

This leads to this question: Can the bird make the best choices for himself? Like flying outside, so No. For wanting to eat more nuts than he should eat in a week: No. Biting the hand that feeds you: No.

But he's a Smoocher, a Snuggler, a Dancer, and Singer, and a Scamp. He nods in affirmation of the list. He says, Djesssss.

A mercurial, contradictory creature. Indeed.