A couple of weekends ago I decided it was time to wash the windows. After all, we’ve lived in this house for almost four years and now that we’re selling I thought it was about time. My mom gave me a killer recipe for a homemade washing solution (vinegar, dish soap, water) as well as tips on how to do the job well. I spent all day removing screens, washing screens, scrubbing windows, squeegying windows, replacing screens, etc. I must say that they look pretty darn good and I think I might have a future in the window washing business if this whole speech-pathology thing doesn’t work out.
Now, to 3 days after the window washing extravaganza… David was opening all the blinds in the morning (part of our morning routine now that the house is being shown quite a bit) and found something most peculiar. Outside of our guest bedroom widow, which looks out to the side of our house where there is a very narrow stretch of DG, was a dove, beak down in the DG and totally dead. It looked like it had been sitting on our fence and then just keeled over. “That’s weird,” David and I thought. He did the manly thing and disposed of the dove corpse to save his pregnant wife from dry heaving for the 10th time that morning.
Now to the next morning…Due to the surprise of finding the dead dove on the ground the previous day, the blinds never made it all the way up. The next day, however, David pulled the blinds completely up and suddenly I heard uncontrollable laughter coming from the guest room. “Jenny, you’ve gotta come see this. I figured out how the dove died!” I hurried into the room only to see this: