We’re finally living in the main floor of the new house! I’m elated. There is still sooooooooooooo much work to be done, but we’re out of the subterranean, basement “love nest” at long last. And it is beautiful. It is magical. It is almost perfect.
You see, I have a beef with this guy:
Apparently I can sleep through just about anything. Trains, cars, sirens, horns honking. I am a sound sleeper. But the wayward chickens that our neighbor just allows to roam about wake me at 4:30 or 5:00 every day now. EVERY STINKIN DAY.
No one told them about daylight savings time either. It is slowly driving me insane because, folks, I like to sleep. Can sleeping be a hobby? I love that delicious little 10 minutes every morning after I hit “snooze.” Sometimes I like it so much, I do it 3 times.
I’ve never killed anything before, but this guy has it coming. I rolled over the other day and asked Jeff where the gun was. Not that I could actually hit anything I shot at, not that shooting something is even an option for me, but I have rooster murder on the brain lately.
I hear grilled rooster is tasty.
I’m the worst “country girl” ever.