Daily Drama 87 – It’s All the Same Day, Man

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Daily Drama 87 – It’s All the Same Day, Man

Nothing changes much around here, including the fundraising, to my surprise. Give Big 2020 was as successful this year as it was last year! It’s especially gratifying to have so many repeat donors. Once again, we had a number of totally anonymous donors, so if you mystery guys are reading this, thanks! Or maybe it should be thanks again!

I’m retired. That’s official, but it gives people the wrong idea. I don’t rush around in the morning and drive anywhere, but who does these days? I enjoy my coffee, read the news on my ipad, and eventually feel guilty about the diabetic cat out there, waiting for his insulin. On my way out the door, I trip over the rabbit, stop to lift the handicapped dove down from her hammock to her little nest, and then the sheep fight over their breakfast carrots. Everybody in the aviary gets food and water and cleaned pens, and two hours later I hose myself down before lunch.

I get a couple hours off after lunch. That’s when I do my bookkeeping and correspondence, respond to requests for consulting, and write these blog posts. I get to do laundry or clean the indoor bird cages, fun stuff like that.

Some days I pack up eggs to give away to visitors.

Garden party is from about 3:00pm to 6:00pm depending upon the time of year. In the north we get these beautiful late summer nights when the sun stays up until 10:00pm. We pay for that in the winter when it’s dark at 4:00pm. Anyway, the geese, ducks, and hens roar out to the back yard and try to destroy every green blade of grass for a couple hours while I take the sheep out front to graze.

This is the big news. In the “before”days, I used to get lots of visitors, especially when Dobby was the main attraction. Of course, there are no visitors any more. Except that there are! I’m on a private dead-end street and I have a gigantic Little Free Library. It’s very successful, judging by the material turnover, and especially by the quality of the incoming books. My front yard is fenced, but the fences are low and neighbors can see right through them. I have a nice place to sit and write where I can see my library patrons from a socially responsible distance. Everybody is out walking, and desperate for a change, they meander down my dead-end street, and discover the sheep!

Like capybaras, sheep are prey animals: shy and they spook easily. Like guinea pigs, they are hungry, and readily manipulated by treats. After only a few saltines, Charlie and Hamish happily approach visitors at the fence, and seem to enjoy the attention. I’ve started to give away eggs and wool samples, and won’t they be surprised to discover I am saving chicken poop for vegetable gardeners! During the past week, I have met three new sets of neighbors (parents with kids) and I’ve even gained a new volunteer to pick up the case of romaine at the grocery store! So, in the midst of the isolation, the Funny Farm has adjusted our focus. It’s closer to home, but maybe that’s where it belongs.

Charlie and Hamish wait for visitors to come to the gate. Maybe they’ll have saltines!

In a normal household, I would put the poultry and sheep to bed, cook and eat dinner and watch a little television. It’s been about 10 years since I watched more than a couple tv shows a week. Now I don’t watch any. When I said I write blog posts after lunch, I lied. It never works out that way. I write after dinner. Unless it’s guinea pig cage cleaning night or something.

Most of the food gets delivered by the feed store. This is a bale of orchard grass, a compressed bale of timothy hay, fir shavings, three bags of chicken food (two kinds), waterfowl maintenance pellets, wild bird seed. And a free pallet.

Crickets chirping. We don’t have insects like that here. It’s my alarm: 9:30pm and time to stab the diabetic cat give Kitty Hawk his night time insulin and his last two cans of cat food. He eats $ix can$ a day. Aargh! I need to order more. I finally have most of it on auto-ship, but I still spend an unholy amount of time ordering cat food online. Also rabbit food, guinea pig food, turtle food, parakeet and cockatiel food. The feed store delivers the rest of it. I settle down to write after I order pet food.

But no. The guinea pigs still haven’t had their bedtime salad. I pile vegetables sky-high on a plate and they squeal as I walk it in to them. I pile up hay to the ceiling and fill their water bottles. The food will be eaten before I make it back down the hall. I still have to feed the rabbit and check the birds before bed. And it’s easier if I chop the sheep’s breakfast carrots the night before.

She’s supposed to sleep on the edge of the bathtub.

It’s midnight. Time for the chicken’s heart medicine, but then I will have some time to write after that. Princess sleeps in the master bathroom, so I don’t have to go outside again. She amazed us a couple days ago by making her way from her day pen in the living room, through the kitchen, up the stairs to the bedroom, and up onto the sink in the bathroom. It only took her a year and a half to do it. I still have to pick her off the sink and set her down on the edge of the tub. I can’t brush my teeth with her on the sink. She hardly ever jumps onto my shoulder any more when I’m flossing. I’m late, though, she’s mutter-clucking and waiting for her medicine. She pecks it off my hand like a champ, and now I can settle in and write.

Probably dreaming about Dobby

I wake up in my desk chair, try to focus my eyes, and look at what I have written. “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.” Hmmm. Good thing the delete key isn’t in that position on the keyboard. Maybe I’ll write tomorrow.

~~~~☮ ✿✌ ✿ ☮~~~~~

It’s All the Same Day, Man. Not quite the Janis Joplin quote, but close enough.

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