Oh my goodness, this place has cobwebs! And look at all the dust...I think a family of raccoons has moved in.
Yep. I'm back. R.D has told me he has stopped visiting because I haven't written a durn thing since July 7th. Well, honestly- I don't have much to say or I have writer's block or the home front is so all encompassing right now or...pick or choose, all of the above and then some.
I wake up, listen to the birds, find myself so thankful for their song, fix my coffee, drink that first jolt down and then I commence to make sure that everything is in it's place and just exactly so and no dust and no moisture in the basement and where did that toad come from??!! And weed and wander and hug and love the dogs, clean up and off to work and worry and wonder there-
So, as you can see if you'd bothered to read this far- just a bit of being stuck in the all encompassing vacuum of selling a farm. I feel like I'm being judged, not on the merits of the place but on the messes!!! Yikes!
AND on top of all of that, I'm running a morgue. Yep. It's true! Here it is, the middle of summer and of all things I have big fat field mice- inside! So I went to the farm store, let's see- the choices are snap their little necks or guillotine their little heads off with the stronger traps, poison them, or glue traps. What's a girl to do?! I put poison in the basement as I suspect that is where they get in at, I glue trapped near the stove and I even put one in my silverware drawer sans the silverware. Upon awakening I forgot I had taken out the tray and replaced it with a glue trap. Imagine my horror, poor little fat mousy looking at me...I screamed, got a grocery bag, said I'm sorry a million times, gathered the little bundle up...and now what to do?! The Big Fish said, "Deah, just get a bucket of water and put them in there, they'll drown quickly." I am a brave and courageous screamy woman, but I do not drown defenseless micies, no sireee- I conveyed to B.F. "Well deah, then wat auhr you going to do then thayer sweethaut?" (That's Mainer talk....)
So quite naturally, I opened a morgue. In the big freezer out on the back porch. Well I ask you, freezing, drowning, snapping of the neck or poison...c'mon! Just as soon as the little dears get caught, I gather them up in a bag, pray over them a bit, apologize profusely and squeal a little when I close the door. I take no pleasure what so ever in their extinction...but I do allow them to live free as birds outside the house. That is my rationale for killing micies. And don't one of you tell me freezing is bad...I cannot bear it, I assure you.
Back to the real estate game-
One offer thus far, too low...then a counter...thanks but no thanks- are you freaking kidding me?! (And then there's that too emotional side to me as well right now.) And, of course- it's July. July stinks.
Keep your fingers crossed for me and ask good old Saint Joseph to get busy finding the family to love this old labor of love.
Take care-
Yep. I'm back. R.D has told me he has stopped visiting because I haven't written a durn thing since July 7th. Well, honestly- I don't have much to say or I have writer's block or the home front is so all encompassing right now or...pick or choose, all of the above and then some.
I wake up, listen to the birds, find myself so thankful for their song, fix my coffee, drink that first jolt down and then I commence to make sure that everything is in it's place and just exactly so and no dust and no moisture in the basement and where did that toad come from??!! And weed and wander and hug and love the dogs, clean up and off to work and worry and wonder there-
Did the kid remember to flush the toilet?
Make their bed?
Pick their underwear up off the floor?
For gosh sakes, did they rinse out their bowls?! Ants!!!!
So, as you can see if you'd bothered to read this far- just a bit of being stuck in the all encompassing vacuum of selling a farm. I feel like I'm being judged, not on the merits of the place but on the messes!!! Yikes!
AND on top of all of that, I'm running a morgue. Yep. It's true! Here it is, the middle of summer and of all things I have big fat field mice- inside! So I went to the farm store, let's see- the choices are snap their little necks or guillotine their little heads off with the stronger traps, poison them, or glue traps. What's a girl to do?! I put poison in the basement as I suspect that is where they get in at, I glue trapped near the stove and I even put one in my silverware drawer sans the silverware. Upon awakening I forgot I had taken out the tray and replaced it with a glue trap. Imagine my horror, poor little fat mousy looking at me...I screamed, got a grocery bag, said I'm sorry a million times, gathered the little bundle up...and now what to do?! The Big Fish said, "Deah, just get a bucket of water and put them in there, they'll drown quickly." I am a brave and courageous screamy woman, but I do not drown defenseless micies, no sireee- I conveyed to B.F. "Well deah, then wat auhr you going to do then thayer sweethaut?" (That's Mainer talk....)
So quite naturally, I opened a morgue. In the big freezer out on the back porch. Well I ask you, freezing, drowning, snapping of the neck or poison...c'mon! Just as soon as the little dears get caught, I gather them up in a bag, pray over them a bit, apologize profusely and squeal a little when I close the door. I take no pleasure what so ever in their extinction...but I do allow them to live free as birds outside the house. That is my rationale for killing micies. And don't one of you tell me freezing is bad...I cannot bear it, I assure you.
Back to the real estate game-
One offer thus far, too low...then a counter...thanks but no thanks- are you freaking kidding me?! (And then there's that too emotional side to me as well right now.) And, of course- it's July. July stinks.
Keep your fingers crossed for me and ask good old Saint Joseph to get busy finding the family to love this old labor of love.
Take care-