It was a glorious day of only one appointment. I was able to stay home and relax all morning and early afternoon, which is virtually unheard of to have the house to myself. I was lying in bed, soaking up the peace, when I heard this banging coming from downstairs. The dogs heard it, too. I was starting to get nervous as the noise got louder and didn't stop. It sounded like it was coming from the side door on our porch. Was someone trying to break in at 9am?? I crept down the stairs and was relieved to find that a robin was at the window, banging it's head repeatedly on the glass. My heartrate slowed and I shooed the bird away. Problem solved.
    I had just climbed back into bed when I heard the thudding again. Ok, perhaps the bird can see through the house to the other window and is too stupid to just fly OVER the house. So I went back downstairs and shut the blinds in our kitchen, then I shooed the bird away again. Finally, it was quiet. I started making phone calls (since I was not longer in the mood to relax in bed, thanks to that red-breasted beast). Into the second phone call, I heard it again! This bird is obviously suicidal because either it's trying to smack it's brains out on the window, or it's trying to annoy me enough to do it for him. So I decided to take matters into my own hands (well, into the broom's bristles to be precise). I swung like mad at the little devil until he flew frantically to a nearby tree. That will teach him, surely.
    A half hour later, the bird was back. He had apparently called a friend to come back with him and they took pleasure crapping all over our front porch before that same, stupid creature began beating his head on the window again. At this point, the window was covered with bird markings and the porch looked like it was covered with freshly fallen snow. I didn't know what else to do; afterall, I HATE birds in the first place, so I started screaming at it. Literally screaming at through the glass panes at a 5 oz bird. I SWEAR that the robin smiled at me! The dogs were barking and jumping, the bird was mocking me, and I was screaming like a banchee.
    By 2pm, I was at my witts end. Everytime I let my nerves calm back down, he returned with his hard-as-a-rock head and sent me into another anxious uproar. Finally, at 6pm, I called my husband and gave him my one request. Kill the bird. I don't care how, I don't care if PETA shows up at our door, I don't care that his precious little bird feeder is drawing these demons to the house.... just KILL THE DANG BIRD! Conveniently enough, by the time my husband returned home, the bird had lost interest in our front window and had apparently given up for the night. He knew I was plotting his death and now he's in hiding. That evil, winged creature has not seen the last of me, though. Oh no, I WILL destroy him... but before I do, I'm going to put him in a tiny glass box, and then I'm gonna tap on that box for 9 straight hours. And I'm going to smile the entire time.