Had to make a hit-and-run trip to town yesterday (aarrgh). I put on a clean shirt but wore the morning's bibbies and my barn shoes. The little grocery store was crammed with people and there were long lines to check out. The smiling young man behind me, meaning to be pleasant, said, "I see you've been working in the garden today." "Umm, no, I raise goats," as if that would explain everything. A conversation ensued regarding goats, and I mentioned I sometimes made cheese, chevre in particular. "Oh, that's exciting! Do you have a card?" Reaching into my purse, I tried to give him a doctor's appointment card but finally dug out one of my business cards. It would be nice to have another customer.
In the feed room last evening, I heard sounds again and was looking at the shelves, but there, on the other side of the window, was a mouse standing on his hind legs, pawing at the glass, trying to get through. It was almost exactly as I'd imagined.
The last thing I do before going back to the house at night is check the wild thing's water pot. I don't know if I rescued this little guy or ruined his sunset swim, but he was just floating there and I thought he was dead. Nope.
This was not the morning to sleep in, so of course that's what I did. Deb and Craig are coming up and I'm going to get caught with my dust rag down. Again.
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