Apathy

As you can tell from my record two posts in two days, life is a bit slow.

Work: I work for a manical company that has conditioned me to work only when there is a deadline or some sort of LOOMING project that gets the stress juices fired up. If there is work but there is a frenzy to it, I can no longer do it. I also work alone. No frenzy + no supervision = time to re-explore the joys of the Internet! WOOHOO

The Ranch: The chickens still number 21. The roosters are getting their cones and wattles (see diagram). They are also truly starting to strut like the cocks that they are (having chickens gives you a delightful excuse to use words like cock. cocks. COCKS. teehee.). Since leaving the fuzzy chick phase, I loathe the dirty birds. I do not like how they all huddle around me when I go into the hen house. I do not like having to chase them around the chicken run in an attempt to get them back into the hen house at night. In fact, I do not even touch this. The hubby is rather frustrated by this. Oh well. He will get over it as this was 'his' project. Dirty, dirty birds.


Life: I am reading a new book, Skeletons on the Zahara. It is categorized as a "history" book and I can't recall ever reading a history book for pleasure. Okay, its like history with a splash of narrative fiction (does that make sense?). Short synposis: Its 1815 and a merchant ship, the Commerce, runs aground on the northwestern shores of Africa. The crew is robbed and enslaved in the Sahara Desert. The book, drawn from first-hand accounts of the crew, details the horrific stages of dehydration and suffering in the desert. Their journey and ordeal is making me realize I am a person who likes and NEEDS to be comfortable. Thirst and starvation are not for me. Blistering, open sores that boil in the heat of the sun and then quake in the freezing night wind are not for me. Running mile after mile with no shoes over sharp rocks while being beaten by a 'master' is not for me. I think, quite honestly, I would be the first among the crew to take a pistol to my own head (none of them have done that, thus far).

Okay. It is 1pm on a Tuesday and I have accomplished nothing. Guilt is setting in..