My continuing fight with the pigeons

When my boyfriend surprised me at Valentine's Day by arriving in a box he made a make-shift chair out of plywood to sit on.  He put it on my balcony and rather than throw it out,  it has become my ghetto sun chair.  But I found out, by moving it to the side with the sun, that this pigeon couple has staked their claim to it.  That would be the only reason why there isn't any pigeon poop on it.

I think I am personifying these pigeons because they are my only neighbourly interactions. I live in a building where all of the graduate students act like pigeons, they stay in their spots, they flee when other people come near and they cock their heads to the side when you talk to them.

I was putting away my exercise mat the other night, and it had some fuzzies on it.  I'll admit, I left it out for some time after my work out, maybe a couple of days.  So I did what you do when you're making the bed and you ferrrap the blankets across the bed (feel free to use ferrrap, if you like).

I don't know who was more freaked out.  The pigeon couple that was abruptly woken on the balcony, or me because I didn't realize that they stoop in the corner of my balcony, beside the window where heat escapes, hidden because of the plant that is inside my apartment in that corner.  And we stood there, staring at each other, with the incredulous looks on our faces, hearts pumping out of our chest, saying, "don't do that, you scared the crap out of me."  Honestly, the male, was communicating, "what is wrong with you" so clearly that I audibly apologized for my thoughtlessness.

I think because I apologized they may have agreed in their tiny brains to not attack me during my morning sunning tomorrow, but to show that I truly scared them, they left behind some moult on the balcony.

That's all.


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