So it turns out I possess the latent Tippi Hedren gene.
As regular readers know, we have some finches that like to billet in the awning over the back door. Standard procedure is that when we open the door, they will fly over to the house next door and wait for us to stop disturbing the peace.
Today, instead of turning right, one of them turned left, and flew into the house. At 6:30 AM.
And I freaked the hell out.
T made a brief effort to direct the bird out. It flew near the ceiling fan, then dived toward the floor.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
And T had to go to work.
I slipped from room to room, closing doors behind me, hoping that if it wasn't gone, at least I could keep it away from me while I showered and dressed.
By the time I was ready, Katie crawled out from under the bed. She seemed calm enough, so I thought perhaps the bird actually had escaped.
When I got home from work, I didn't even have the key in the lock before I heard a thump on the kitchen window. And then another.
The bird was still there.
I went to Walmart, bought a fishing net, and delivered it to T at work. "Call me when you have it out of there," I said.
Now I'm waiting at the library up the street, and they are about to run me out. T's been home for 40 minutes. This can't be good.