Monday, March 27, 2017


Cranky:  given to fretful fussiness, irritable, crotchety.  That's the word for it, I'm cranky.  After that great day with Pete, the weather turned grey and cold again and I'm pretty darned sick of it.  Looks like today is going to be more of the same, but with more rain.  Aarrgh.  I'm tired of slogging through wet grass and mud and picking through what's left of the wood pile to find enough dry pieces to bring to the porch and having to leave the play pen and/or big room open for the goats to poop in all day.  The thought of having to make another trip to town and the cost of a smog check and having to take the old license plates back to DMV makes me testy.  I'm not fit company for man nor beast.

Even putting the girls to bed last night was a trial.  I would have thought that with the drizzling rain they would have headed to their rooms without hesitation, but no.  With effort, three of the four were tucked in, and then there was Tessie.  I wheedled and coaxed, sweet-talked and threatened, all to no avail.  We played the Chase Me game and she stayed that oh-so-irritating one step out of reach.  Darkness was falling and I still needed to get the chickens inside.  "Okay, Tess.  Last chance.  You don't want to spend the night outside, trust me on this."  "No, I won't, and you can't make me."  She was right about that.  I left the play pen gate open for her and hoped she had enough sense to get in out of the rain.  The chickens, on the other hand, were more than willing to go in for the night.

As Thumper said to Bambi, "Mama said if you can't say nuffin' nice, don't say nuffin' at all."  I've already said too much.

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