This whole moving to a new blog thing seems to have my writing mojo all in knots. There’s so much possibility when things are fresh and new. I don’t want to screw it up.
That and this week has just been one Monday after another.
There seems to be some sort of Amityville Horror-esque happenings going on in my office. I don’t know where the bastards are coming from, but there are giant black flies everywhere.
The Pig Dog is in a stage right now, one that requires constant, undivided attention to prevent him from destroying things. Thank goodness for his crate and the fact that he doesn’t mind napping in it or I’d probably ring his adorably-fuzzy little neck.
The mole/vole/canine fiasco of May has run over into June and I had to order more seeds to make up for the destruction the poor little market garden has suffered at their hands. The other day The Pig Dog brought me a dead mole. I’m hoping that’s the end of it, but it still puts me behind and behind puts me in a state of constant stress. I don’t know why I think gardening is a good idea for me, I’m far too OCD for this shit. The replacement seeds still haven’t arrived.
The Strawberry season here has been all but a complete bust. Cases from other local farms are selling a full twenty-five percent above usual prices and our little patch isn’t up to snuff enough to provide for our jamming needs just yet. It’s not the end of the world, but it’s disappointing. Strawberry jam is the kids’ favorite and one of those things that kicks off the canning season for me. It’s kind of like having Christmas without Thanksgiving, how do you get in the holiday spirit?
Of course, when we really get down to it this is all just a bunch of whining over first-world problems. I should probably get over it and move along.