It’s not what you think… I’ve been up since 3 am cleaning the toilets. Thing 1 went back to school and came home with the ICK.
Yesterday morning I was up at 3 am with a migraine and I’m not sure which of the two I prefer– a sledgehammer to my pinkie, perhaps. Then we’d have to buy a hammer, which isn’t in the budget.
Maybe I should get a DIY home-trepanning drill bit? Mark isn’t too handy with tools, so maybe not.
My prescient friend Katherine suggested a goat, which I had ALREADY thought of because I get a little whacked out on no sleep. Those Peterson farmer boys did a Gangham style ripoff and made me feel bad about how far removed my eating is from the growing.
We already have a herd dog, all we need is a herd. Brilliant! Goats would eat the grass (no mowing, less carbon emission) and I could open a boutique cheesery (and make buckets of money.)
Of course we probably don’t have the right kind of grass for optimal goat cheese production. And the incessantly barking neighborhood dogs would probably stress them out too much to be terribly productive. And eventually I’d want to go to the beach and WHO WOULD FEED THE GOATS?
The problem, as I see it, with farming, is that someone has to stay home and mind the farm. Trips to Paris are OUT. Course you can see Notre Dame on the internet….
While the BVM didn’t shower her football team with any miracles last night, the media hype over ND was incredible. The bias against the south, farmers and country people is aided and abetted by Honey Boo-Boo, Cajun Justice, Swamp People, and whatever else comes on tv that I have no time to watch.
People ought to know by now that some independant little leprechaun ain’t got a chance against a big ole SEC elephant. No POT O’GOLD at the end of your rainbow… just a TIDE-y BOWL!