I've got a new paranoia in the works, and unfortunately, I think this one has some staying power: I'm now constantly worried about birds flying in our windows. This isn't entirely unfounded.
Upon moving to SF we noticed that there seem to be no bugs in the city (we've since discovered mosquitos live here too). Our apartment came with exactly one small screen, and for months we've been carefree in propping our screen-less windows open whenever the temperature or mood moves us. There are a number of trees outside of our back and kitchen/bathroom windows, and the effect is quite pleasant - nice and green, with breezes blowing into the living room and lots of bird and insect chirping. I don't think we're alone in doing this.
Earlier this spring I was working at my "office" in the living room with all of the windows wide open, in defiance of the weather. I heard a loud buzzing, and when I stood up from behind my monitor, came face-to-face with a hummingbird. In a moment scripted by Warner Brothers, I looked at him, he looked at me...and made like a shot for the window, leaving immediately and exactly the way he came in. No problem. I like hummingbirds. They're interesting. And tidy.
A couple of weeks ago J's mom was visiting. We were getting ready to run some errands when out of the corner of my ear I heard some commotion: louder-than-usual chirping, coming from the bathroom. I peered around the door, and there was a healthy-sized mourning dove perched on the shower rod. I had left the window open about six inches to help dry out the room after morning showers, and the curious bird had taken the invitation to check things out.
I like mourning doves, but not in my bathroom. Of course I flipped out, shutting the door and wondering how the heck we were going to shepard m.d. back outside. I had visions of a bird careening around the apartment, anxious and flustered, hitting closed windows and leaving a trail of feathers and ...other stuff. J's mom was not flustered; she peeked around the door and then crept into the bathroom. While I stood in the kitchen, ranting loudly, blah blah, she somehow coaxed it back out of the window. Bird whisperer?! I wouldn't be surprised. There was a minor mess to clean up, and we discovered feather souvenirs for days after, stuck to the shower tiles.
Since then we've had a couple of bird-against-glass encounters at twilight(!), and I've caught some brazen black birds hopping around the window box, eyeing the couch and the remote. Those warbling birdsongs now taunt me; the brood is just waiting until we let our guard down again to make their move. OK, its not quite that bad, but no more throwing the sash open with abandon for us.