Friday, 16 September 2011
I showered and dressed, then headed out to give the chickens their scratch. I collected their poop in a bucket and threw it in the compost while I was there, then headed back inside to deal with the kitty litter, naturally stepping in a steaming pile of spoodle-poop as I went. Cleaning that off my shoe gave the kitty time to go outside, eat a heap of grass, then run back inside ahead of me and do a big grassy supplementary sick on the kitchen floor.
You know it'll be an interesting day when you've handled three lots of poo and a couple of vomits before the toddler is even awake.
Here's a picture of a couple of chickens in lieu of the obvious.
Thursday, 15 September 2011
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
I think I've become a morning person. It's odd. I never believed it possible. My need for night time darks seemed set in stone all these years. In spite of this, I like being up early. There have, in fact, been long periods where I have woken with the sun and left my bed to greet the day, but regardless of how long this lasted, I never ever stopped feeling foggy-brained and exhausted. Until now.
Now I realise how some people manage to be so productive. Not that night people can't be productive; just not me so much.
So we finished moving out of Mouldy Manor and we dealt with the real estate agent's attempt to steal our entire bond (yes, that's right, after having to evict us when the house became derelict due to lack of maintenance). I finally found my inner warrior and told them where they could go in a rather formal and forthright letter. They made a far more reasonable counter offer and I accepted, avoiding a Tribunal hearing. I'm calling it a win. At least I didn't let them exploit me one last time for the road.
I'm still slowly (oh so slowly) unpacking and giving things away, but I found the cutlery tray last week, so that's good news. No more eating with the baby fork when the third fork is in the dishwasher. I make progress every day, but there is just so much stuff. I have stacks of boxes packed with objects that seem to bear no relation to one another.
I also paid all of our bills last week, a few of which were more than a little overdue. This week it's the post office. (Sorry if I owe you mail. You're not alone. I'm on it, I swear.) And hopefully many other things from my seemingly endless list. As each item is crossed off, it is as if another burden is lifted and I become a little more carefree.
I'm chuffed to the point of manic infantile giggling that spring has finally arrived. Sun and warmth and blossoms exploding everywhere are working magic on me, body and soul.
I'm catching up on my favourite blogs (which I think is pretty much my natural state). I don't like to write before I read. It doesn't feel right. I like to know what's going on with you before I start blathering on mindlessly about cutlery, but there are a lot of unread posts in my reader. Some of you are impressively prolific. Some of you write extraordinary pieces that demand that I ponder the inscrutable. Curse you and your self-discipline, intelligence and talent. Curse you all.