As often happens when faced with a daunting situation (e.g., Thanksgiving prep), my mind and I went on a sit-down strike yesterday. Knowing full well that it is self-defeating, I do nothing. Maybe I need the pressure of a sprint to the finish, I don't know. Wishful thinking turns into magical thinking, even though I know the good fairies will not come in the night to do what I should have done during the day. They never do.
Nature pulled another "gotcha" in the morning. It was sunny when I went out to do chores, but by the time I got to the barn those high clouds started spitting rain before opening up and pouring. That, of course, threw the goats into a tizzy and the routine went whacko. She took pity and quit when I'd finished, but I left the play yard gate open in case she took another jab. I'd left the big door to the chicken coop open, but closed it on my way back to the house. The temperature had dropped like a rock. Even though it didn't rain again, at least the little girls would be warmer.
That ridiculously silly piggy neck warmer got a lot of use yesterday. Even though temps didn't reach the mid-50s, I didn't want to light the wood stove just yet. With the pig on my shoulders and two cats on my lap, I was comfy and that was my only excuse for not getting anything done. I can find a rationale for just about everything.
That being said, I've got to get it in gear and put the pedal to the metal today. Not only is a friend coming for lunch, Clay called last evening and said he is bringing a load of firewood in the morning. He's really racking up the Good Son points!
The strike is over.