Well I spent the better part of the morning yesterday scooping chicken poop. Into a big plastic leaf bag. In a bucket. Why? Well I had to clean the chicken coop anyway and my sister begs me to save her chicken poop for her garden. I usually just ignore that request because she lives in town and either she has to come out here and pick it up or I have to go in and give it to her. Who wants to tote smelly chicken poop in their car? She wants three or four hens of her own and has been trying to convince her husband to build her a coop so she would have all the poop her little heart desires and eggs as well. Her husband just rolls his eyes.
Cleaning the coop is a nasty job but there is just something so great about watching how the hens love all that fresh hay or straw. They scratch and make these funny cackling noises and have to jump up in their nesting boxes right away. No not to lay me an egg but to scratch around and make a nice indentation to lay down in. Then they hop down and off they go to another spot. Makes me laugh every time.
I had this dream last night that I stole two purses. One was from a co-worker that I haven't seen in over twenty years. I used to work with her in the school district in my home town. Not only have I not seen her in years but I can't imagine stealing her purse. The other purse was from a thirteen year old girl that my youngest daughter mentors. For some reason she was carrying a huge old lady purse like my mother carries. In fact both of these purses were like that. Why would I want to steal these purses? In my dream I didn't take anything out of them. In fact I didn't even open them. I was just going to go get rid of them somewhere. I was contemplating where when I woke up. What???
The only thing I can think of is that somewhere in my consciousness I hate huge old lady purses filled with junk so I must bury them. All of them. Even an innocent 13 year old child's old lady purse. I guess I feel obligated to save her from the huge old lady purse syndrome. I don't know. I must be bitter about my mother carrying around those huge bags with fake jewels on them. Do you remember those?
Or maybe the chicken poop has gone to my head.