Dirty bird week...

I will never complain about my dear, messy Phoebe bird again. My friend is on a cruise, bless her soul, her very first one. And I am bird-sitting her canaries, Peepers and Chichi. Now, I love my friend, but these are the messiest creatures I have ever welcomed into my home. They poop on everything, and none of their seed cups have lids, so my countertop is sprayed regularly with seeds and lettuce and little bits of masticated apple, not to mention they also have that projectile poop thing down. I have already gone through half a roll of paper towels trying to stay ahead of the mess. OK, I am a little anal here. And Phoebe is enjoying the company. I can tell, because she has been squawking regularly. Chichi has a hormone condition, and is missing feathers on her neck and head, which gives her a little old lady look that is far from attractive, but she tweets all the time. Peepers, the handsome male, seldom says a thing, but, occasionally, when I am not in the room, he will sing, but I think he is depressed and missing his mistress. I am just trying to keep them alive, healthy and undamaged till she comes home. I am thinking of taking a little drive to Petco for better seedcups though, in self-defense.