Buzzards Make it Better

I had a very bad, bad, day today. Adrenaline surged through me, I wished I had a car to lift. But no, just flying brain matter to contain. I’m a very bad, feral girl to let myself lose my temper like that. It didn’t even concern politics or religion.

I already e-mailed the Q Letter. The Q letter is a polite but firm “I’m not the right person for you” letter—I’ve had to do it enough times over the years to have sort of a template. I never tell customers the truth about why I’m leaving a cleaning job because people don’t get it when they have been inhospitable. My two main rules of housecleaning are 1) don’t make me chase down the check, and  2) GO AWAY.  Is that so much to ask? I don’t ask clients to supply anything unless they have some special product they want me to use. My customers who understand my simple needs get the most honest and detailed cleaning service you can buy. I clean houses the same way I draw or work on dictionaries, lovingly and a little obsessively.

In a bizarre chain of events, I got into a fight with the son of the owner of the house.  It’s not the first time but it sure is the last because I’m never going back.  I had no choice but to tell the truth in today’s Q letter, and, never one to shy away from a good adjective, I’m the one with a knot in my stomach.  A mother is going to stick up for her son.

So I’m posting some recent buzzard (turkey vulture) pictures to cheer me up. Bisbee is famous for its buzzards. They come in the spring and leave in the late fall, but some stay all year. In the spring people await their arrival at what’s called the Buzzard Tree on Tombstone Canyon Rd.  The buzzards alight in great flocks and people come to look at them. Here it is almost the end of October and there are still a lot of them here. Locals know not to park under the buzzard tree, or your car will soon be covered in buzzard shit.

What the hell did buzzards eat before there was roadkill? Was there enough death in the desert to support their numbers?

This buzzard is pulling its fresh roadkill off to the side of the road, as the traffic was flying by and disturbing their feast. See next picture...

I had pulled my car over to watch, and I got the treat of seeing a buzzard actually hauling the carcass to safer ground with its beak. Pretty cool road cleanup system, I think.

This ancient cottonwood is known as the Buzzard Tree, where they come to roost in the spring. If you live in the nearby hills, you get a great view of all the top buzzard action.

A flock of buzzards sailing in the clouds over the hills of Old Bisbee.

5 responses to “Buzzards Make it Better

  1. Hey,

    it’s sad to hear that doing your job is so hard at the moment. But I’m convinced you will get something better now. 🙂
    I think, if you want to do a great job, you have to be a little bit obsessive with it, so keep your two rules…
    Hope your next day will be better 🙂


  2. Hi R…I’m glad you agree about obsession—without obsession, work would be boring! Sometimes if I don’t have enough work I have to bend my rules, then I become miserable…so it’s nice to be able to say “I quit.” Anyone who has their own business doesn’t need to take sh*t from customers…especially in the housecleaning business—the job is hard enough without having to deal with difficult people while I’m doing it!

  3. Head thumping & vein popping anger with having to engage with resentful narrow-minded people – yep, no stranger to that. To diffuse the urge to kung fu kick the guilty in the loins, my relief after a bad experience is to surround myself with furry friends. I have my cat Mumu and my best friend adopted 2 new kittens from the shelter a few months ago which I babysit often. Thank god for non-human creatures to love – cuddling with them is like a big hit of Valium!

  4. Ha ha, apoplectic mad, that was me. This kid is 24 going on 14 and still livin’ with mommy. I try to avoid him but he stands there and makes coffee and eats cereal while I’m in the kitchen…I could even stand that if he wasn’t such a dick. This time he got personal.

    I threw a plastic garbage can full force from across the room at the closed door to his room (while he was in it of course). It made a loud satisfying crash. Then I yelled obscenities, slammed doors, and left for good. The kid never came back out of his room, he must have instinctively known this wasn’t a good time to provoke me further. I feel guilty because my behavior was so unprofessional, but when I lose it, I lose it bad.

    In a surprise move, his mother wrote me back that night and said she can’t stand him either.

    I love to get home and lie down on the bed and get mass-mauled by all my kids!

  5. Deb, the obnoxious ones are the most unbearable. That little boy bitch crossed the line and you dealt with it. He’s lucky you didn’t death grip his balls. And as I suspected, you’re a feisty one! You go girl!

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