I feel like Petunia

[justcarol67]

Someone dropped a baby on my doorstep. Not a human baby, fortunately.
It's a baby bird, a half-grown white-tailed dove if I'm not mistaken.
After an hour of fruitless phone calls (no answer, answering
machines--why do these things always happen to me on a Sunday night?),
I finally found someone who gave me instructions on how to care for it
overnight, but they won't pick it up, and I'm not going to drive
around a strange neighborhood at night looking for them. So I now have
a live bird in a Kentucky Fried Chicken box with a hole in it in my
laundry room. It's probably too young to eat the birdseed I put in
there along with Kleenex for a nest. (The woman said not to put water
in there because it might fall in and get cold.) So now I have to
sleep with the windows closed so the bird won't freeze to death. Good
thing I work at home. I can just see calling an employer to explain
that I'm going to be late to work. I have to deliver a baby bird to a
rescuer. Just call me Petunia.

On second thought, don't.

Carol