What happens when the blackbirds escape the pie they were baked in?

Sing a Song for Sixpence (1880) ~ artist unknown

There are, according to my mother, 40,000 birds in my garage. That’s right. Forty thousand. Four, zero, comma, zero, zero, zero.

I have a nice house. But I’m not a Rockefeller. I don’t have a garage that would house 40,000 birds—no even tiny hummingbirds. And quite frankly, I don’t think 40,000 of anything would fit in my garage. Ladybugs? Maybe. They are pretty small. But I’d have to get the calculator out, rely on old-school calculus and geometry to estimate the size of their body, multiply it by 40,000 and divide it by the square footage of my garage. Alas, it’s the morning after Thanksgiving and my brain is still fully satisfied from yesterday’s meal, conversations, etc. etc. etc. So why bother it with anything new? I’m just about as content as I possibly can be ;)

Today’s post inspired by The Daily One-word Prompt: Sated. Oh, and for those that visited yesterday … I did get that seven mile run in, and I did put on exactly 1.8 pounds from the meal and the wine … and you know what, it was all worth it … and now I’m going to go run another seven miles (or maybe just three), eat veggies today, and SHAZAM, that 1.8 will be a thing of the past, just like that.

One Comment Add yours

  1. anglogermantranslations says:

    But what actually happened to them? I really want to know.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s