Loathe Thy Neighbor
I just had 11 glorious days away from the Paycheck Generator. Usually when taking time off, I set forth grand goals which I then feel shitty about for not having achieved. This time, I just had one task and it was one that took up the bulk of the time, but mission accomplished. This will be my fourth summer in this house and the front yard has been an area that I have not embraced and have sort of let go to shit. The previous inhabitants had a completely different vocabulary of plantings than I do and this year I just decided, fuck it, and if it offended me, I plucked it out. In the process, my wonky back, weakened by my hulking over the keyboard all day, got better, I got some sun and when I went to bed at night, I felt - righteously - tired. Next door, GirlyMan and The Pegger, whose every utterance is delivered with the conviction and projection of The Word, had me seething for the first couple of days, but since I buy earplugs in bulk, they're not scarce around my house and they did the trick. Last year, between them, the insidious ice cream truck and the guy over at the Alzheimer's hospice with Buckets 'O Phlegm, I was often driven in to the house. But no mores, I tells ya! No. Mores.
The weather was perfect most days and the chickens spent all day rototilling and over this last weekend, their freakish moratorium on laying ended with Ester, who produced a dark (they're always darker when they had a bit of a hiatus) brown egg, while Beulah stood a foot away and screamed at her the entire time. Beulah's eggs are still falling out of her, shell-less, so she has reason to be bitter, I suppose. But with just one of them laying again, it's a huge relief. It really doesn't take a lot to make it all right in my world.