Once upon a time, there were a couple of birds who lived in a nest and their names were Mr. and Mrs. Bun. Their nest had been fully built in 1979, and reinforced with string and mud, and there was nothing wrong with it, thought Mr. Bun, but Mrs. Bun kept bringing home junk and adding it to the nest. Pretty much every day, she brought home bits of ribbons and different leaves and other birds’ feathers, and little rocks, and she wove them all into the nest, and banked them up against the sides, and soon (according to Mr. Bun, although Mrs. Bun said it wasn’t true), there was only a tiny little sliver of nest you could actually sit in. Mrs. Bun was renovating them out of house and home.
“Quit bringing home all this junk!” squawked Mr. Bun on a typical day when Mrs. Bun arrived with a beak full of detritus and started to spread it out for his review.
“What I want to do,” explained Mrs. Bun. “Is take out all these ribbons and replace them with rubber bands. Because the rubber bands won’t get soggy when it rains! Plus, they stretch, so we can sort of develop them into an annex, maybe, for all your dead bugs.”
“Well,” conceded Mr. Bun. “That is a pretty nice rubber band, actually. Where’d you find it?”
“There’re lots more. I’ll get them all eventually.”
“Hmm. Oh, yeah, this here’ll hold up really well.”
“So, then,” said Mrs. Bun, killing their dinner. “Do you want to work on that this Saturday?”
“I’m going to watch the game.”
“Well, now, that sounds like fun,” said Mrs. Bun, pleasantly.
The Buns liked each other pretty well, but all the other birds only liked Mrs. Bun, because she tended to pitch in in an emergency, whereas Mr. Bun was one of those birds who’d always tell you why your problem was your own fault – “See, that’s why you always want to build on the lee side,” that kind of stuff. They all quietly waited for the day when disaster would befall him.
But it never did, because Mr. Bun was careful and deliberate about life.