I wrote a journal today on need vs want. In it, I explained what both words mean to me, and how I've re-discovered my independence. I was so confident, knowing that I'm capable of taking care of myself, even hauling tons of groceries upstairs by myself. I figured my days of panic over having to do things myself were over. No more, OMG, what am I going to do about putting the new lamp together, or getting rid of that horrible virus on my computer. I was free and clear. I'd put together all sorts of furniture by myself. I was good to go.

Then it happened. My moment of clarification that I wasn't quite out of the woods.

So, I'm sitting at my computer, typing away, enjoying the day. The fridge is full, and I'm finally starting my diet. I was practically smiling at the thought of the day. I'd put together a bird stand for my little parrot. And I hadn't needed help. I thought of all the independent women--real and fictional that came before me. And now, I was one of them.

And then I heard it, the flap of wings. I quickly turned my head, seeing green, then red. I put my hand out, hoping to avoid what I knew would happen. Then plop, too late. My little parrot was in my hair. The hair that is very curly. The hair that I had put up only moments before like a beehive from the 60s. And now, my bird, my lovely parrot with the long claws I've never figured out how to trim, is sitting in my hair. I tell myself not to panic. Just because he was in my hair didn't mean anything. I stick my finger up there and tell him to get on, then snap, he bites me. And the first thing I think, me the independent woman, is what am I going to do. It had happened a year ago and it had taken DH to get him out because he was stuck. Now, I'm sitting here alone and I got a parrot in my hair.

I cursed myself for putting the new bird stand up--the one I'd just assembled, the one that I had sitting too close to the computer. Had it been across the room, like the cage, I would have heard him coming. Been able to get my finger in view of him so he could land. But now the landing strip had become my head and I've got to get him out, I thought, panic taking over. So I reached my hand up, and grabbed him. That's when I discovered he really was stuck. So the game began. I pulled. He bit. I pulled. He bit. This went on forever. During that time I pictured myself knocking on my neighbors door, my new neighbors. Here's the scenario.

Knock, Knock. They open the door. And I say. Pardon me. I'm your new neighbor from down the hall. I hate to disturb you but, I was wondering if you could help me get this parrot out of my hair.

I thought, no way. So I sat there, 5 minutes, ten minutes. I could hear him crunching on my hair, but he didn't move. I picutured him practically smiling at the thought of the control he now had. Finally, I felt his little claw move across my head. I quickly put my finger up there and he actually hopped on.

I was never so happy.

Another disaster averted.

So much for independence.

Goodnight.