is nice that my neighbor asked me from time to time to cover their birds if they want to go to the theater. Then I stomp around nineteen clock down a level in the other apartment.
your two parakeets then usually sit on the cage roof, but when I say to them in a friendly tone: "Shoo, shoo, in the cage, my dears, it's bedtime," they do not move often. I look at the birds, the birds, look at me, nothing happened to action.
assured me this every time my neighbor that their pets were all alone to their usual bedtime in the cage.
but never doing it. Nope. Should I new items in half an hour here again, because then maybe they are willing?
I then always first in the corridor and contemplate me in the big mirror on the closet door. Such a large mirror I have in my apartment not even there I see myself only in part.
here but I see myself, but in one piece from head to foot, and ashamed. How can you run around just so, in baggy sweat pants, a big bag of nondescript sweater and shoes? It reminds me of my late father set off all the more funny because he was running around like a slut. Have I inherited from him? But it was choleric and roared at every little thing going on while I'm different. In any case, the effort to behave kindly and politely, there always with me, and if it does not exist, have only to blame the other, which I was annoyed.
After I then inspected me enough and I found a sufficient deterrent, I go back to the room in which there are the birds.
One has already crumbled in the cage, the other thought it over yet. After some thought and after I had countless times hush, hush, sleep, go, I said, but he also flies in the cage, and I can cover with a cloth and turn off the lights.
Good night, Love birds, sleep well.
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