I came home from work today, and put on my cranky pants. They were so tight, they were choking me. The only thing to do? Throw a childish tantrum and ask "Am I the maid?". Which is obviously ridiculous, because Maids gets paid to clean up other people's crap. I work in retail, so I get paid to be spoken to like crap.
So after stomping around the house for awhile, I realised the only thing to do was to go and play in the dirt. With the chickens following me around, I dug in the soil. Turning over the earth until my cranky pants disappeared.
It was then I got to appreciate my surroundings. The plenitude of flowers on the cucumber plants, the sudden growth of the corn, even the pretty Barbie ribbons tied around the tomato trees. Talking to the 'girls', I felt the tension leave me.
The black chicken is the friendliest, she follows me closely when ever I am in the yard. The girls may have been a gift for Jarvis from Dad, but they certainly make me happy as well.
Yes, they are still "The Girls", or in Jarvis's case Duck, Duck, Duck.
My old wrinkly gardening knee, best solution for tantrums