More of the winter groove. Brought wood in. Fed chickens. Fed rabbits.
Woke up worried about money – next month we have to learn to get by on 60 percent of my old salary. So my inner procrastinator has finally noticed the problem. Will be thinking on it.
Also woke up worried about running out of vanilla extract. We likes our pudding and brownies. But C. just laughed. Use amaretto, she says. Brilliant, I say. We have lots of it from Christmas.
The little chicken is pretty happy in the bathroom, where there are no mean guineas sending her ass-over-teakettle. (And, since her legs don't work right, it takes her a long time to get the teakettle back on top again.) She's a funny-looking little thing with a big pouffy hairdo. Kinda like JoAnn Worley, or the woman with the beauty shop on Murder She Wrote. What was her name?
Off to do a little work on my last job from work. Remember work? I almost do.