Bye-Bye Birdie

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So, I think Bean is sick again. I don’t think I can go through it all again.

It’s not only the money, (which is a huge problem for me) although it’s becoming more and more difficult to justify spending so much on a bird, it’s the stress.

I can’t sleep, I feel sick to my stomach, and I spend all day staring at him.

Is he too fluffy? Is he too quiet? Is he eating and drinking? Is his stool black?

ARG.

I drive myself absolutely batty.

All over a bird. I mean, he’s an awsome bird…friendly, happy and all that…but I don’t deal well with stress.

You should have seen me when my Taw was sick on Christmas Day. All of a sudden I got all clausterphobic, and needed to get out of their house. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t stay.

You can imagine the guilt.

Not only that, but Bean keeps getting sick when I’M the one taking care of him. If he’s with Guy, or Jane, he’s fine, but put him in my presence for 72 hours, and he gets sick.

Can someone have Munchousens Syndrome By-proxy and not be aware of it? Can it be an unconscious thing? I go over everything in my head, and I can’t remember doing anything different. I can’t explain why he’s always sick. I can’t even keep a tiny little bird healthy.

I probably should never have children.

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About Angela

My name is Angela. I am a 28 year old psych and criminology graduate, but I'd rather not diagnose you. I am a cuddle-slut. I can recite the entire script of The Princess Bride, (including accents) and believe that the meaning of life is contained within. Polyanna, Snap.com commercials, and Oprah 'reunion shows' make me cry. I can whistle and hum at the same time, but I cannot touch my toes. I am an expert in both listening and talking. I look good in orange. I am a writer. I kick ass in Gin, Hearts, and Cribbage but I don't understand Canasta or Bridge. I can be heard singing Broadway numbers from my shower, and have dressed up as a viking princess, (complete with aluminum foil breast plate) The Phantom of the Opera, and a Ghostbuster for Hallowe'en. I have a bird named Bean. I have a brother named Adam. They are not related. I like vanilla body lotion, peanut butter, saunas, Jim Carrey, broccoli, pets, TheOnion.com, Muppets, Kevin Smith, Corelle dishes, dry erase white-boards, Barenaked Ladies, Philosophy, the letter J, Harry Potter, picture frames, swimming, quilting, Michael Moore, genealogy, Raggedy Anne, tacky 50's tchotchke, 'Idiot's Complete Guide To' books, tweezers, feather pillows, polar dips, aquariums, Martin Luther King Jr., and Dr. Pepper. I don't like meat, gossips, cooked carrots, American Idol, mosquitoes, sweating, politics, public washrooms, tardiness, tuition, hunting, pat answers, pick up lines, brown bananas, cliches, pine scented air freshener, Kevin Costner, bacon, candied apples, pro-wrestling, humidity, and hypocrisy. Books I've read recently The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Dark Tower, When Nietzsche Wept, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Catcher in the Rye, Not Wanted On the Voyage, The Red Tent, The Little Prince, The Way the Crow Flies, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Poisonwood Bible, The Fall, The Knot of Vipers, Calculating God, The Chrysalids, Sick Puppy, Nineteen Eighty-Four, Franny and Zooey, The Brothers Karamazov, and jPod. I am slightly neurotic. No I'm not. Yes I am.

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