Today I left the back door open, and as I headed toward it I was looking at the floor. I looked forward just in time to see a little bird that had come straight thru the door and was about four feet from diving straight into my face. Not scared of birds, but don't want one implanted in my forehead, so I screamed and waved, and the bird zipped over me and turned around, zipped right back out the door again.
If I were a bird as well, the incident might look like this in profile:
Been riding my bicycle at night. This is rapidly becoming the only exercise I can do that doesn't hurt while I do it and/or cause new things to hurt afterward. I like it. It feels like flying. Well, except for all the uphill part, which feels more like trying to churn butter with my legs. The old bicycle emits this scraping and squealing sound that could easily be coming from my knees.
A block over from my house is a big silent neighborhood of mansions, which I glide thru in the dark. There is never a soul or car on those streets at night. But if my bike is momentarily quiet while coasting, I find a lot of rabbits in my headlight. I also saw a giant opossum hauling ass as fast as a giant bread loaf with two-inch legs can hobble.
Every deadly-quiet mansion has a giant picture window in front, fully exposing a living room that looks like a magazine photo --- never a person inside using it. I guess it's a requirement that mansions leave one room lit up and fully viewable from the street for display purposes... I feel like I'm coasting thru a movie set that has closed down for the night.