Monday, April 26, 2010

Poop Gal


I know that everything poops. But, why do I have to clean it up? Farm living is also poopy living. Everyone but me gets to poop where they want. I just have to pick it up, hose it up, cart it off, and try not to step in it.

My new horse must think that my new trailer is a portable john. After hours on the trails, then standing around being groomed and un-tacked, he gets in the trailer, and immediately poops and pees gallons and bushels. Well, shit.

My hens come to my entrance in the back of the house to poop. I have a little hen who, a few days ago, decided to hatch a nest of eggs in the screened room off the family room, on the bottom shelf of the Tiki Bar! (By the way, before you say 'Eeew! A Tiki bar on a farm?!', it was purchased for parties my son was having around our pool the first year after college.)

Anyway, the new nest situation results in more, you guessed it, POOP! My job is assured. This shit will never end...

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