It was pouring down rain!
No, the rain didn’t wake me up.
I love listening to rain.
Lucifer has a bathroom schedule set between 4 am and 6 am, and he never strays from it.
I'll admit that I may have taken a bit of pleasure letting him out this morning, and I didn't wait to see if he changed his mind.
Cowboy went to work at 6:30 am, so the cat didn't have that long to suffer.
About two hours.
I certainly didn't feel very sorry for him.
I keep the other cats night-crated to keep them from being coyote bait and to keep my house clean.
I can’t crate Lucifer though because he decided he wanted to mate with my girls, and apparently spayed females want nothing to do with that.
They beat the living daylight out of Lucifer.
I need to see if I can find the travel crate today and put Lucifer in there.
I hate being woken up by a yowling cat every single morning.
Dawn is also when they say coyotes are most active, so he’s safer waiting for a more decent hour to go outside.
I have absolutely no plans for today.
They go back to school after spring break tomorrow, so I just want to be lazy and carefree before my school anxiety kicks back into high gear.
Now, Tuesday they visit a local college and Badger refuses to go.
She says there isn't any hope of her ever getting into a college, and she doesn't want to waste her time visiting.
So, I'll keep her home Tuesday.
Peacock took all last week off, so we very briefly saw Gealach on Friday.
He barely stayed a half hour.
It felt really weird not taking care of her, not waking up this morning to an “I'm hungry, Ganny.”
Cowboy worked a 16-hour shift on Thursday.
He worked his regular 3 pm–11:30 pm shift, got home at midnight, and barely had time to lie down before they called him back at 1 am.
He didn’t get off again until 8 or 9 Friday morning.
Badger and I kept our voices down, turned the TV down, and tried not to make a lot of noise while he caught up on sleep.
After Cowboy went to work, I was going to do some graveyard rubbings.
I’d been promising Badger for a week that we’d do it.
Well, Cowboy decided to sell our January roosters, and a man said he was coming.
He didn’t say when he was coming, though.
He didn't come until 8 pm.
We couldn’t leave the house because we didn’t know when he would show up.
While we were waiting, I just cleaned out both the top freezer and the chest freezer.
It took Badger and me almost two hours to defrost, clean, and deodorize that freezer.
I think I may have overdone the bleach.
My nose and head felt weird for the rest of the night.
Either that, or maybe you shouldn’t mix bleach and vinegar.
I know that bleach and urine create something close to mustard gas, but I swiped the freezer with Dawn, then vinegar, and after that I felt safe using bleach.
While I was in the back room cleaning, I had sent Badger to the bathroom to get more towels.
I left the front door open for ventilation, but the wind had partially shut it.
A Jehovah’s Witness knocked on the door, which made it swing the rest of the way open.
She scared the living daylights out of Badger, and I think she scared the dickens out of herself.
Badger came running to get me. “Mamma, Mamma, I think the chicken person is at the door!”
Um-nope, not the chicken person.
The lady was so flustered she didn’t try to convert me.
She just kept apologizing about my door.
I may have been a scary sight too.
At this point, my eyes, and nose were streaming from the bleach.
I was covered in gunk, and I doubt I smelled very healthy.
After we finally got the freezer done and the huge mess it created cleaned up, we sat down to some mindless TV.
Badger found a series “Sun Records” that she just loves, so we caught up on that.
She's not happy with the characters, but it's really hard to make an actor look like Johnny Cash or Elvis.
However, I agree with her, I don’t see why in the world they don’t just lip sync.
I mean, if you’re going to portray Johnny Cash, then make him sound like Johnny Cash.
Elvis sounds pretty much like Elvis, and Ike Turner was a good imitation.
But poor Johnny sounds horrible.
The chicken man finally came.
I wish Cowboy had been at home to deal with it.
I’m not country.
I don’t know how to haggle, and I don’t know what a person would want to know about chickens.
I mean, they're chickens, that's about all I can tell you.
He wanted to know who was the mamma and daddy of our roosters, so I opened the chicken coop up.
We only have one rooster that contributes DNA.
The man who sold us the rooster swore on a stack of Bibles that he was a pure Marans.
I can’t remember if he said Cuckoo or Black, whichever he was supposed to be, straight off the boat from France.
This fellow said he wasn’t pure.
He was mixed with, I think, Welsh, or something like that.
Well OK, if you say so, I mean he was sold as pure and that's all I know.
Then he wanted to know if they were crowing yet.
I don’t know.
Do you have any idea how many roosters are in this neighborhood?
I can't tell one rooster from the next.
He went down to the pen where Cowboy was keeping our December clutch of chickens, and he kept going on about how gorgeous they were.
He went back and forth between the cages and finally decided he’d take Martin.
Then he and his wife laughed about how their hairy feet gives him the creeps.
One of the characteristics of Marans is that they have feathers on their feet.
Personally, I think it’s cute like little “hobbits.”
He wanted to know if I'd take $40 for the December chickens, and I gave him Cowboy's number and told him to take it up with Cowboy.
I'm sorry, but I don't do this barnyard trading thing.
Saturday we headed over to the flea market.
It’s mostly full of cheap Chinese junk and antiques now.
There really wasn't all that much of interest.
We grabbed lunch, came home, and Cowboy and Badger took long naps.
Cowboy can't seem to get enough sleep and Badger had a headache, probably from the heat and not eating.
We ended Saturday with a lot of mindless TV after everyone woke up.
Not surprisingly, Badger didn't sleep well Saturday night.
We had two clutches of chicks in this box and never had one bit of trouble.
This clutch of chicks is the stupidest thing!
They crawl up in that tube.
Do you know how hard it is to pop a chick out of a tube?
Yeah, it's not fun.
Cowboy had to pop one out, and darn if another one didn’t go up after he left for work.
I’m not as good as Cowboy.
That chick is missing a few tail feathers.
They’re delicate little boogers, and I’m so afraid of hurting them.
I can't just shove them up the tube like Cowboy does.
Badger calls this one Pooka because only a goblin would be stupid enough to go up a tube.
That takes us today and as I said, I'm doing nothing.
Badger is still in bed.
With Gealach not being here, the house is clean, so I have the luxury of being lazy.
I'm sipping my pumpkin spice coffee and just enjoying a quiet house.
Walmart had two boxes of pumpkin spice K‑cups on sale.
One was McDonald’s and one was Dunkin’ Donuts, and I grabbed both.
It's never the wrong season for pumpkin spice.
I like Mc Donald's better than Dunkin' Donuts, though.
It seems to be smoother and more on the cinnamon side.
We may get into something later on, but for right now, I have no plans.
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