I'm not going to Melbourne. Sigh. Spent twenty minutes with Mum discussing the options and debating it in my mind. I'll come down later this year. Sigh ... I really wanted to come down this week. I hate passing up an opportunity to go to Melbourne. Any other weekend and it would have been fine. Stupid grand final scheduling. Blah. Trust my luck.
So last night and today I discovered my emotions aren't dead. I didn't post about this last night because, well, it was too 'then and there' and nothing was certain. Still isn't, but we have an absolute result now.
Last night, Mum and Alan got home, walked into the living area ... and there was no bird in our bird cage. We used to have two budgerigars, then one escaped, and we've had just the one for quite a while now. The living area had been empty for two hours - when James had gone to watch movies in his room two hours beforehand, the bird had been there, and I'd been in my room the whole time. Everything in the house was closed. One door on the bird's cage was stuck slightly open, and it looked like she'd been playing with it when it caught and she squeezed her way out.
Logic said she was still in the house, so we started frantically searching through the place, looking for her. There were a few feathers by the television cabinet, but ... that was IT. We searched the house for about TWO HOURS. There was absolutely NO SIGN OF HER. She'd just ... vanished. It didn't seem real. It still doesn't.
Our dogs wouldn't have eaten her. Sophie's barely big enough to eat a dog biscuit, let alone a budgie, and Jack's a wimp. He probably would have been more scared of the bird than she would have been of him. Even if he had done something to her, he would have had blood on him or there would have been more feathers or SOMETHING. But she was just GONE.
So this morning, Mum was watching Jack, and he walked off outside and started to sniff around in a far corner of the garden ... she followed him, and over there, she found more white feathers. The bird's gone. We don't know how she got out, we presume maybe Jack frightened her to death and he simply carried her outside and either he buried her or other birds ate her or ... I don't want to think about it. It's just odd, it's not right.
I don't get it, how one can get so attached to a bird, but that's what happens. I ... don't know. I've built up a world where I'm not personally affected, where I don't have to risk hurt, but now the loss of a bird, of all things, has hit me, it's jolted my emotions back to the fore. It's not comfortable. But ... sigh. I just want the bird to be back. I don't want to look at that empty cage. It remarkably hurts. I don't want to see that.
And today's just shot by ... yet it's dragged too. I feel I should have gotten some work done, even though Mum said I should have a day off because I've felt like such crap. I might go do something now. I should write that setlist article for Interference - I'll actually enjoy that, and I've drafted some of it in my head already.