Tight schedule this a.m. because as always I woke up thinking this might be the day that I get it together. The. Day. I made a great list. Its the part of this that I do best. Farm chores, chiropractor, quick grocery stop, and then I was going to clean the entire house (Mike gave me my Christmas present early, an awesome vacuum cleaner that wont implode when it sucks up dog hair, and said Mom, I thought maybe you might want to use this before Christmas. Subtle, Mike, subtle. And thank you, again. We really needed one that works!) But the baby chickens, in stock tank in the barn, had something different on their schedule: jail break. Dear little chickens, I do not know how you managed to get that screen pushed up, or how you figured out how to hop up onto the waterer and then somehow squeeze out a miniscule opening thats not even half the size of the smallest of you. I do not know how, when you cant really fly very well yet, the 32 of you can disperse into every nook and cranny in the barn, high and low, which is of course piled with crap both figurative and literal. I dont know how you can move that fast. Well, that I do understand: its just relative. You only have to move faster than me, and thats a low bar. One hour and twenty three minutes until I caught the last little shit and tucked it back in. With cinderblocks on top of the screen cover. 83 minutes on a busy, busy day. The day before Christmas. Yet again, another day reminds me that Im not in charge. Yet again, Im convinced that it could happen tomorrow. I could get it all together. Tomorrow could be The. Day. It could. Im going to go start another list.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 15:09:59 +0000
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