I was up late the other day working. It was the sort of night that kept dragging out for various reasons. 1am… 2am… 3. By 3:15 I decide I’ve had enough for the day, so save my work, wash up, and ready myself for bed.
By this time it is 3:30am. The weather has been nice, so the windows are open to allow the cool summer breezes to blow through. (Summer in Rochester is really marvelous. Just fabulous weather almost all summer long. Almost makes up for the sleet and gray skies from September to May…)
And as I am just about to drift off, that’s when it starts. 3:35am. Maybe 3:36. The birds awake.
Well, no big deal, friend. Right?
It might have been no big deal if they just were deciding to get up a bit early and get that proverbial worm. But, no! 3:35 (or 3:36) is when they decided to sit outside my window and begin to chirp. Shrilly, and loudly. I don’t have much more to say about this except that I am flabbergasted. At 3:30 in the morning, everything is dark! Nothing else is awake. Why are you chirping now, birb? Are you confused? Whom are you chirping to? The chirping was also just the usual: chirp… chirp… The birds were not chasing something off or evading some sort of danger. So, again: Why 3:30am? What. The. Hell?
Naturally, I did what anyone would do in this situation — I laid awake in bed, sorely irritated, wishing the bird would fly away (which it eventually did at 3:50am), and then blogged about it angrily.