In just you can't tell, those droplets on our living room window are not precipitation or remnants of a water balloon fight. They are, in fact, bird juice.
The innocent bird that hit our living room window ten minutes ago hit with such velocity and force that I actually heard the bird-to-glass impact from the bathroom. While blow drying my hair. Shortcake was in the living room playing Wii and judging from the way she sprinted in to tell me what had just transpired I imagine that she just about jumped out of her skin when the bird came hurtling into the window.
So now I have a dead bird on my front porch (which I feel bad about but will not remove myself feeling firmly that animal carcass removal is a job for The General and The General only) and "clean living room window" just got added to my already daunting To-Do List.
Sorry about your wayward travels and untimely death, bird, but damn you for messing up my clean windows.
Also, note to self: Really. Get moving on getting some curtains already, woman.
Holy crap, you guys, I think I just witnessed a miracle. THE BIRD HAS BEEN RESURRECTED! Ten minutes after publishing this post, I walked over and cautiously peered onto the porch to get one more look at the poor bird. I'll be darned if the stinkin' thing wasn't standing there, looking a little dazed understandably, staring right at me. Just as I went to take its picture so I could share it with all the world the Little Bird That Could flew off. But not before leaving me a little gift of two giant piles of bird doo-doo.