Some Days are Trouble.

I am having one of those kind of days today.  Where nothing goes right, nothing that should be easy actually is, and where you feel like you are scurrying and rushed from the moment you roll out of bed.

That was the onset of my day:  I woke up late.  Waaaaaay late.  Late as in "ohmygoodnessthatclockhadbestnotbeshowingtherealtimeohmyisitreallythattimewhattheheckamidoinginbedohnooooooooo" kind of late.  The cats who were sleeping with me were flung in all directions as I heaved my way out from under the covers and ran downstairs like the White Rabbit with his tail on fire, late for a tea party with the Mad Hatter.

Speaking of fires, we had one in the Bunny Barn this morning.  Nothing major, just a bit of flung pee falling into the extension cord causing smoking and sparks and a few wee flames.  Why was pee being flung about the place?  Oh, I am so glad you asked.  The teenage rabbits have discovered their boy and girl parts, and the single buck was happily carousing with his sister does.  Do I have any place else to put him?  Nope, I don't.  I was hoping for a few more days of teenage-hood.  So after I am done with my work day today, I get to go home and add rabbit butchering to the To-Do List.  Not a big deal, really, but it added an interesting element to the morning already filled with lateness and flames.  Flung pee = Cris needs to change clothes before going to work, and on a late day this just makes things a bit more exotic.  It also means that no coffee is drunk before heading out the door.  That is a crisis of nearly epic proportions. 

And when I did head out the door to race off for a distant meeting that I was verging on being more-than-fashionably-late for, I was greeted by the sound of three juvenille roosters tunefully practicing their crows in the Big Shed Coop.  By my calculations, they should be no where near ready to start crowing. No. Where. Near. They are prodigies, I tell you.  It would be impressive, if I was ready to be impressed by crowing cockerels.  Of the fourteen "guaranteed pullets" (ha ha--guaranteed, my Aunt Fanny), I have at least four and possibly a fifth one that turned out to be little roosters.  They are sweet and cute and all that, but really.  FOUR of them?? Good thing I have lovely friends who are delighted at the prospect of acquiring some free chickens, even if they are the noisy rooster variety.  (Check out the farmy goings-on at www.twogirlsandagarden.blogspot.com)

Top all that with checking of email, and discovering that a project that has been a long time in coming has a major blockage in the ol' waterworks.  No good solution is in the offing, and it will make for a long, challenging summer of gardening for a bunch of people.  This, on top of a rough morning and the endless joy of wrapping up a school year, does not make for a very happy person typing this little blog entry.  I am hoping to recover my sanity after consuming many red licorice bites.

Sigh.  It is never a dull moment, I tell you.

So now I am eating lunch in a lovely little cafe in River Falls, sipping luscious dark roast coffee and enjoying some artwork:

Not an ounce of rabbit pee in sight.  Blissful!

Now, back to writing some work-related reports.  Only three more days and I will be able to focus on my  real life as a chicken farmer-gardening lunatic for at least eight weeks of summer.