I Love A Rainy Day

Yes, this is the same me who not so long ago was whining about rain, but that was constant rain, days and days of downpour to the point I was checking how long a cubit is so I could build an ark.  Yesterday, it started to sprinkle just as I went out to feed (of course).  It was a nice warning to close the big door on the chicken coop and it didn't come down harder until I was milking.

I'm having a bit of a problem with the girls.  Three is not a good number with goats.  When there are four or more, they've each got someone to buddy up with.  Three, not s' much.  Sheila and Tessie are ganging up on Inga and making her life miserable.  I'd have to look up records for just how old Inga is, but since all the girls were named alphabetically in order of birth, there's obviously a stretch between I and S, T.  Normally, leaving the play yard open would give enough shelter for the three, but the younger two were butting Inga and pushing her out so I had to leave the door to the big room open, too, so she could get in somewhere without being bullied.  My life would be easier if I could put all the girls together in the big room (about the size of six good-sized stalls) at night, but obviously that's not going to happen.

For most of the day there was either a gentle rain or a drizzle/mist and it was cool, cool, cool.  The song in my head was a paraphrase of Eddie Rabbit's song "I Love A Rainy Night."  The only problem, if it can be called a problem, is that this weather tightens my curly hair and I look like I'm wearing a Brillo pad on my head.  Oh, well.

It was a perfect day to get a lot of computer work done and not swelter or freeze.  There was a break in the afternoon, long enough for Bess and me to go get another bag of goat chow.  There are those things one cannot do without.  I fear I'm going to have to make an unscheduled trip to town soon because my coffee maker is making death gurgles and that's another indispensable item.

I found one of the knitted piglets Ralph had stashed away and threw it out into the room for him to find and hide again.  I have no idea where the others are.  He's gotten quite good at hiding his treasures.  While at the computer, I kept hearing a cat's high-pitched miaow.  It was Celeste walking around with the piglet in her mouth.  I don't know whether she was celebrating the finding of the lost, feeling sorrow for the poor baby, or proclaiming victory over Ralph, but she did it time and time again throughout the day.  I don't know where the toy is now.

It was still misting at the kids' bedtime.  It was a good day.