Decided to walk around at 8:30 this morning, rather than stay in bed, awake, for any longer. The sun was already beating down on our less-than-manicured lawn, so I strolled over to the shadier side of the mountain. This is when things got interesting. Well, rather, not interesting. Painful.
The chicken coop is set up like so: A large cage on the left hand side, surrounded by *doh* Chicken wire. On the right, a platform suspened 3 feet off the ground that allows one to access the "hatchery" so you don't have to bargain for your life with angry hens. Not to be punny, but that platform was my downfall.
When you wander outdoors at 8 in the morning, tying your sneakers isn't the first, second or heck, sixteenth thing on your mind. I already am mildly distracted this early in the morning, and wore an 6 year old pair of flip-flops. They're yellow. WERE yellow, 5 years ago. They're scratchy, and they're squeeky. I don't mind though, shoes are shoes.
These ratty shoes were about to become crucial. My brain, always on food, saw the chicken coop and registered chickens with eggs and eggs with omelettes, so I bee-lined towards it. The jump is generally easy to accomplish, about 4 feet diagonally to reach the platform. However, when one wakes before the chickens do, and they hear you, the result isn't too pleasent. I leapt off with (I suppose) my right foot and right before the climax of the jump, animal screams sliced the air in front of me. This disrupted my train of thought (YUM! EGGS!) and I crumpled midair.
Result? A gnarly looking set of legs, and two broken flip-flops. Just kidding about the crucialness, they were actually rather insignificant.
Currently, I'm listening to the midnight noises of outdoor beasties. (NOT eighth graders, by the way) I would be out there myself, sitting on my trampoline and enjoying the dark breeze, but alas, I am human and humans are susceptible to mosquito attacks. My body is proof of that, since I don't believe in DEET.
I can hear a toad/frog of some large size near the window, his flappy, slimy self slapping against the coarse, white of the brick wall. My sympathy goes out to him/her, outside is rather chilly.
There's something wading through the grass too. I can't see through the window, it's too bright in here. Guess I'll never know....
1 comment:
Careful of those eighth-graders. They roam the woods at night, seeking their next victim. One must always be on guard.
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