Phew. Glad I've avoided that.
My brainchild occurred only a an hour or so after Helen, a new (and awesome) year-long staffer, pulled a mouse out of the washing machine.
And the thought came just a little while before my husband and two of our neighbors/co-workers/fellow woodsman went outside to try and shoot a skunk that is living in our woodpile.
A woodpile located directly below our front deck,
which also happens to sit right outside my office window.
Fine, the woodpile basically is my office window.
While the chase ensued, I tackled my own challenge: eating half of a watermelon. This comes to no one's surprise.
Why is no one surprised? Because eating entire melons and chasing woodland creatures is beginning to feel normal. The strange-but-true reality of life here has slowly pulled a foggy haze over my perceptions of what to should expect out of a day.
For example, I've recently managed to:
- overflow the pot in the Bunn coffee maker, multiple - ok, dozens - of times.
- shake someone's hand while holding a pirate's hook in my sleeve (we'd never met before)
- spray water all over the dish pit, ceiling included.
In the battle of human dishwasher vs. ladle,
there are no winners - only losers.
It looks so harmless.
I'd compare it to running an ultra-marathon naked,
to drinking questionable milk]
I've also managed to...
I've also managed to...
- stay upright in a kayak through most of the Kennebec Gorge (read: most)
- drive a four-wheeler
- pet a black bear. It actually felt quite like my cat, only larger and less alive.
- plunge the single-most-foul toilet I've ever encountered. If I close my eyes, I can still see it.
- shoot archery with a gaggle of sweet Dominican grandmothers.
- start wearing hats. Thank you to my friend Cathy, state food service laws, and that one retreat guest who left me a fedora. Her fedora. On purpose. I look too much like a little boy to pull it off [without looking like a little boy].
- stop sleeping in. This seems simultaneously gluttonous and tragic, and yet I will probably attempt to return it to my skill set pronto.
- take one day off in a month. Though it may sound like I'm flaunting some big accomplishment here, what I'm really saying is that this kind of behavior is particularly unadvisable and likely a result of your own bad planning. Plan better next time.
- live in a state of heightened anxiety and panic (see above).
- remain in wedded
blissweddedness. Considering the previous truth, this is a miracle. I'd have banished me.
I keep thinking that I should maintain a list of the unique happenings that that take place here in the woods, and perhaps I really ought to, but as time goes on, the instances themselves become less and less unique and, consequently, more and more everyday.
In conclusion, I suppose I will start on that list...
providing something really weird happens.