My husband is a firefighter. When he is at work, I have to "man up," and take care of everything myself. You do not call your husband at the fire station just because the kids are fighting, the dryer stopped working, or because you BROKE the chicken coop and they might all get out. You only call the fire station if you have a fire. And, even then, you'd better not call your husband. You better call 911 and embarrass him via the indirect route so that you have witnesses!
So, I couldn't call to tell him that I broke the chicken coop today. How on earth a man can spend so much time perfecting a chicken coop, I will never know. He has painted that thing, added handles, windows, breezeways, a nifty ramp. Shoot, I'm a little jealous of those hens.
Apparently, my Swedish Viking blood has somehow created a miniature Helga within my 5'4" frame. I fed all the squawking girls, cleaned up their poopy water, chirped at them, told them they were cute, and then went to retrieve their eggs. The fancy door Jason made to access their nesting boxes is a wing type of door that I have to lift over my head. Think, yellow sports car from all the 80's movies - minus the hydraulics that keep the thing open -over your head. Except that this door is probably as heavy as my four year old, and I have to lift it over my head while balancing 8 eggs. Now, you get the picture.
So, when it's time to close the door, I have one hand holding eggs and one hand on the door. My thought, drop the door, it will just close, then I can latch it properly. I drop the door. It falls off completely. Now, we have a wall-less chicken coop 10 minutes before dark. Cute.
I'm so glad that I have enough humor to laugh hysterically at my predicament even before I find a solution. I did manage to block the birds off from that area with a little coaching and a stack of bricks in the doorway to that section of the coop. Thanks to the fanciness of the building with all of it's separate areas, the girls can't climb up their ramp to access that space unless they can karate chop a stack of bricks.
I sure hope he comes in the front door before he checks on the chickens in the morning when he gets off duty......
Funny, funny! I'll tell you Casey; the more your inner Helga comes out and helps you figure things out, the more self confident you get about handling things. When we moved up here I ended up contracting out all the work and getting our cabin built. Terrill wasn't sure where to start, so I just jumped in. Got the road in, septic and well in, etc.. Of course everyone I asked was extremely helpful. Keep it up!
ReplyDelete