Laura sent me a photo from the trip she and Ashley are taking to St Louis, where they are learning to train horses. It’s a Lexus with the license plate ‘BITCOIN’ and it prompted me to consider the fact that my amazing Genesis with its Ultimate Tech Package and 19-speaker Lexicon sound system is now used as an all-purpose farm vehicle. (Primarily for hauling duck shit to the dumpster at the end of the drive.)
Among my many duties as a farm boy while the girls are away: feeding ducks (multiple times per day). Watering ducks (multiple times per day). Cleaning out absolutely fowl duck houses (plural) and trying to remember to only wear duck shit shoes in duck shit pen, not in the house. Feeding dogs an insane diet that takes TWO PAGES of explanation stuck to the wall of the pantry. Yes, Laura, you’re bonkers. Letting dogs in and out of house based on dogs’ whim and degree of personal irritation with dogs’ barking at random nothings. Monitoring puppy (more or less constant). Feeding cats, separating cats, petting cats, removing hoooooooovtgsergconvrac^^*IF cats from keyboard. Horses – well, they pretty much look after themselves once you’ve stood there for 20 minutes making sure Big Horse doesn’t eat Little Horse’s food.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it… and this is only the first 24 hours. I don’t know how, or why, she does it.
So now my Genesis smells of duck shit, my shoes (dammit, forgot) smell of duck shit, the house smells of duck shit, and the duck house (the assembly of which almost ruined our marriage) is basically a duck shit swamp.
To sum up, I feel that I’m not entirely cut out for this. I’m strongly in favor of sitting on the back porch, watching the sun go down while drinking a nice Cardhu (thanks mom and dad!), but rollicking through life as a crap-covered shitkicker is simply not my idea of a good time.
Please come home, sweetie.