Last week I found a cracked egg on my doorstep. Turns out the chickens had escaped early one morning (probably because we forgot to close the door to the run) and felt the urge drop an egg on my stone steps. (Of course my first thought was that I’d waited so long for these bloody eggs to arrive and they had gone and wasted one.) I thought that was the end of it, but we had a snowstorm this week and I was forced to shuffle back and forth between the house and the coop checking on my precious hens.
When the snow fell, I could not convince them to come out of their coop, so I shoveled out all the snow, and a hefty amount of frozen chicken crap (#winning) and eventually they came down. The clever girls managed to pop out a couple of eggs for us which I put in my coat pocket. When I moved on to shoveling the rest of the yard (#stillwinning), I shoved my phone in pocket to keep it safe… on top of the eggs.
Enter cracked eggs and yolky phone.
The next day I gathered some eggs, put them in my coat pocket and in the short amount of time it took me to get from the coop the the house, I’d forgotten all about them. I leaned up against something, or carried something, or who the hell knows what I did, but … enter cracked eggs and yolky phone.
And then, like manna from heaven, we got a gift basket from some cousins in New Orleans (I am apparently cooler than I look) packed in a delightful wire basket and presto!
I am now in possession of an actual egg basket and my mom-coat is saved from daily washings. Now I’m really #winning!!!
I realize all this egg talk makes me a dull girl, but I can’t say I have much else going on. I dreamed this week that we went to Australia and was actually happy out it, which says a lot because I really don’t love flying. We’re feeling so cooped up (get it?) that I’m officially good and ready to spend a few days on a plane to visit a country that people tell me looks a lot like …California.
In the meantime, I’m going nowhere. Just back and forth to the chicken coop. In other news, someone asked me if Lois – our cat – is expecting. I’m pretty sure when they spayed her they took out her uterus so I think the only thing Lois is expecting is more food. I’m nervous the two of us are gonna get fat shamed at her vet appointment next month so it’s time to trim back on the poor girl’s treats. Here she is when she doesn’t think anyone is watching, just sitting herself on a counter (naughty cat) and willing the fridge to open.
I could see how from this angle one might think Lois is expecting a brood of kittens but she’s just a girl trying to make it through the winter of our discontent without eating everything in the house. Twice.
Take a number, Lois.