Intruder!

Well, that was different.  Going out into the living room yesterday morning after my stint at the computer, I thought I heard faint sounds coming from the stove pipe.  Since that couldn't be, I ignored it.  There it was again.  Hmmm.  Maybe some bird or other was pecking at the metal chimney cap on the roof.  No, the sounds got louder and were definitely coming from the pipe itself and getting lower.  Oh good grief!  Now what, and what to do about it?  I hoped that whatever was in there would figure out that the way in was also the way out.  Nope.  The banging continued.  I surely didn't want the creature to die in there.  As hard as it is to believe in the midst of a heat wave, winter will come again and Stove will start doing his job and I didn't want a barbecue.  Even if ladders were not verboten to me, there wasn't much point to getting on the roof.  What would I do?  Call down and say, "Come out, come out, whatever you are"?  Not exactly inspired, but hoping, I opened the vent from Stove to the pipe, and heard the whatever drop into the cold firebox.  Okay, now what?  I cautiously opened the small side door, still not sure what I might find.  Nothing.  No movement whatsoever in the ashes from last winter.  I opened the larger front door and whoosh! out flew a tiny, terrified grey bird.  Looking for a way out, it banged into the big window.  Ralph and Celeste were laser focused.  "Oh, Mom, thank you!"  They were sure Christmas had come early.  Little Bird managed to evade the hunters and flew about the room  Oh great, now what again?  It left the living room and I went through the house looking for it.  Nothing.  Oh crum.  Was it injured?  Would it die of fright?  I sat down to ponder the problem.  That's when Little Bird came back and made a second attempt to get out through the picture window.  Ralph and Celeste were on it in a heartbeat, and kept it occupied long enough to let me get in there and grab it.  It was no bigger than the palm of my hand.  I let it free out the front door, sounding much like Mork (Mork And Mindy, 1978, Robin Williams and Pam Dawber), "Fly and be free!"  Boy, did I get dirty looks from two very disappointed cats.  It seems the spark screen had come off the chimney.  I put in a call to HD, but he hasn't called back yet.

We are due for a stretch of eight straight days of 100-plus degree weather.  Aarrgh.  Clay texted this morning and said he was sweating at 5:30 a.m.  Me too.  Tired of sucking on ice cubes yesterday and getting a little hungry, I thought of those bags of sliced peaches in the freezer.  I highly recommend a peach-cicle on a hot day.

Due to another foofah with medications, I have to go to town again today.  I know Michael will appreciate the A/C in the truck and stores, but I'm worried about his poor feet on the hot asphalt.  I wish I had a stroller.  Maybe if we double-time it, he'll be okay.  Maybe I'll buy him an ice cream cone.

Stay safe.  Be well.