Stacy Horn

– I need to write a minimum of a page a day and I haven’t written for the past two days.

– I’m also freaking out about getting my writing done before my doctor’s appointment and here I am blogging about freaking out about not writing instead of writing.

– I have nothing to wear for the 9/11 ten year anniversary and I’m going to need TWO outfits because there’s a barbecue and service at St. Paul’s the day before, and then a service on 9/11 itself.

– Speaking of the barbecue, I’m trying to call all the 9/11 volunteers to invite them and I’m two-thirds done, which isn’t bad, but I’m freaking out about it anyway. Freak-out-age is not rational.

– My hair sucks currently.

– Money. As per usual.

– I need to get Finney back to the vet for another laser treatment and I suck for not doing this already.

This is a picture of the narrowest restaurant I’ve ever seen. I should have gotten a person to stand there to demonstrate how narrow it is. It looks more insane from the front, but I didn’t think a picture from the front would adequately portray the lack of depth.

Will I get back from swimming and be showered in time before the landlord’s guy gets here to try fixing my door again?

Will my bird be okay, and if he is, and if I have to rehabilitate him, where am I going to get a cage to put him in?

Will I finish these two chapters in time?

Will a spider land on me ever in my lifetime?

I have much bigger worries of course, but that’s what came to mind this morning.

This is a picture of some graffiti in Soho. Somewhere. Because I don’t remember where exactly. Or if it was even really Soho. It could have been Tribeca.

I was afraid the Wild Bird Fund people were going to tell me my bird was fine and I should have left him where he was so his mother could find him. That didn’t turn out to be the case. I’m not happy that he is not fine, but I did the right thing and he’s going to get great care now.

He’s about 14 weeks old I learned, and the vet showed me the xrays where he has a broken leg AND a broken wing. Poor little guy. I could see she was debating what to do. I’d been told they’d splint him up and I’d have to take him home, but she ultimately said, “He needs to stay here. We can manage his pain and feed him, he needs about a week.” Then I have to take him home and get him ready to be released, except she said they may just turn him over to the group that does the re-homing, I’m supposed to call back in a week to find out. She said the wing was broken in a spot where he’d be able to fly again.

I miss him already, and I may never see him again. This is Finney demonstrating why I never could have kept him anyway, it’s for the best. Thank you Wild Bird Fund for taking him and helping him.

I’m so upset. I didn’t do well when I tried to feed my pigeon a second time last night, I doubt I got two in him. I think I only managed to traumatize the poor thing. I was feeling all confident about my first attempt, which didn’t go too badly, but he was all, “Okay, I know what you’re up to now. I’ll be ready for you this time,” and he evaded me better. I’m not even going to try this morning, although I did feed him water. I’m hoping when I take him to the Wild Bird Fund they’ll be able to teach me to do better.

I also haven’t been exercising Finney because I’ve been dealing with this bird, and I think I wasted the one laser treatment I got for him by not exercising him. UGH.

Plus, I didn’t write yesterday and I doubt I will be able to today, so yeah.

A picture I took of a storm coming in the other night. Stormy, me, my mood, get it? Haha. Sob.

The NYC Pigeon Rescue people never got my first message, because they called back very quickly after I called them a second time. I now have an appointment tomorrow at the Wild Bird Fund to set his leg. The problem is, I have to take him home and rehabilitate him myself. They don’t have any room right now. Mother of god.

Both the Pigeon Rescue guy and the Wild Bird Fund guy carefully explained how to soften puppy chow and hand feed him, which I just tried.

My pants are now soaking in the sink in some Woolite, the feathers and soggy puppy chow is mostly cleaned up, and when I have more money I’ll have to call the rug cleaning guy, but I think I managed to get 3 or 4 pieces inside him! Unfortunately the guy said to shoot for 10, so I will have to try again in a couple of hours. I learned a lot though, I think I will do better.

The pigeon rescue guy asked me some questions about about my pigeon’s appearance (notice I said “my”) and he told me he’s actually very young. That’s puppy chow in the back. I thought I’d leave a few pieces for him in case he developed a taste for it.