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
