Hotel

Only a few weeks into harvest season and I feel like I am running a hotel.  Joey's in around 9 pm and out the door again at 6 am.  He drags himself in the door after a long day on the tractor, heats up some leftovers of the dinner I ate alone on the couch, and then falls into bed.  Since I moved in with Joey I've been the cook, the maid, the laundress, the dog wrangler and the chicken girl.  For the most part, Joey handles most of the care for the sheep, as well as the outside tasks like mowing the lawn.  Now I've added those tasks onto my burgeoning workload. (Except that I don't know how to mow the lawn...the grass is getting pretty tall.)

Right now, I'm on the couch, a mostly-eaten bowl of boxed macaroni and cheese on one side of my lap, a sleeping dog on the other.  It's just me, the animals, and this old, unfinished house.  And the animals are always hungry and the house is always a mess.  And it's only the beginning of the harvest.

Hungry hotel guests
  

Comments

  1. What a sweet little face- you can't deny thats one thankful hotel guest even if she only pays with one bag of wool.

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  2. She's my favorite, her name is Molly, and she is always looking for a slice of bread or some corn to eat out of your hand.

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