So random I do not know what to call this post.

Yesterday I woke, refereed a few fights over the weetbix and jumped into the shower. I finished up and wrapped in a towel, entered my Lady Room. My Lady Room is a room that is off limits to anyone with a scrotum. It is my study/dressing room/library and the place I sleep on the rare occasions I get huffy with Mr Woog.

Now did you ever see the movie The Hangover? Do you remember the scene where the dude goes into the bathroom after their big night out and makes a discovery?

There’s a jungle cat in the bathroom…..

Well I totally know how he felt. I heard a squawk. I dropped my towel. After I had a mild heart attack thinking there was a rogue tradie in my room announcing his displeasure at my nuddiness, I found this fella sitting on my mantelpiece.

I immediately recognised him as George from the front tree. We have 2 rainbow lorikeets that live out the front and they are bitchy and loud. And they are rainbow. So I assumed they were in a same sex relationship and they have been known for years as George and Michael as a result.

I had not idea how George had gotten in. The door had been closed as were the windows. The fireplace has been blocked for some months with this hideous painting that has not been hung yet. It was a complete mystery.

I looked at George and he looked at me. And then we both did what you do when you find a bird confined in a small room in your house while you stand there naked. You flap.

I flapped. George flapped. And then he crapped. I squealed. The kids came bursting though the door and screamed. The cat bolted in and went fucking mental. I did not want George to be eaten, so as naked as the day I was born, I ripped open the blinds and flung up the windows, while the screaming and squealing in the background alerted to all the workers who were walking up our street to make sure they had a good look in.

I shooed everyone out of the room and took stock of the situation while George caught his breath on the mantelpiece. So I took a photo – like you do.

Meanwhile Michael had heard the commotion and had flown down to sit outside the window and started yelling to George. I can only imagine it was something like “George you fuckwit! I have been waiting at the bar for you all night and almost got picked up by a Currawong in a mesh singlet. Boyfriend… you are in so much trouble. Get your sweet ass out here pronto.”

I think George had decided he had had enough of my Lady Room and my lady bits, so he calmly flew over to my desk, walked across it to the window, looked at me, did a large crap and flew off into the wings of Michael. And I stood there. Naked and traumatised.

It was 7.30am and I was ready for a vodka.

And it is this early morning trauma that I blame for the fact I forgot it was mufti day yesterday at the kids school.

The End.