Now why would a harmless little bird be so bad as to be, literally, the bane of my existence?
Oh, let me tell you. This asshole is called a Northern Waterthrush. He isn't a thrush at all, the big poser. He's a "thrush-like warbler." And even though his body is really small, his voice is THIS FUCKING BIG, and he thinks it's friggen hilarious to sit right outside my bedroom window and go "CHEE CHEE CHEE CHEE chchchchchchchchch" at five thirty in the morning. Every morning.
Why is this such a big deal? Because I have two under two, of course. Which means sleep is at a premium around here. Not more than three weeks ago, The Babe decided that eight o'clock was a fine time to wake up, compared to six fifteen, which has been his preferred wake up time practically since birth. Oh, how I rejoiced! Until asshole waterthrush showed up three days later.
He does his stupid "CHEE CHEE CHEE CHEE chchchchchchchchch" from five thirty in the morning until well past eleven at night. In the middle of the day he's joined by thirty or so of his closest, loudest friends. And you literally cannot hear yourself think around here.
And the more I try not to hear his stupid chee-ing, the more I hear it. And it's driving me freakin insane. Damn waterthrush. He isn't even supposed to be here, really. We're a little too far south for him. So go back to Canada, asshole. Go drive someone else up a wall for awhile. Sheesh.
(If you're so inclined, you can hear my high-decibel little "friend" here. Be sure your speakers are up AS LOUD AS THEY CAN POSSIBLY GO, in order to get the most realistic effect.)