When I got home from the store and Lily's this afternoon, I found chicken poop all over the back porch which meant that some of the chickens had come in the dog door. While I was still cleaning it up, Ms. Nicey and Ms. Lucille strolled out of the back door from the house as if they owned the place.
Which, I guess, for awhile they did.
Maurice didn't give them a second look.
I suppose I should be a bit upset but frankly, I'm mostly charmed. Where in the world did I get this white trash gene? Next thing you know, I'll have a washing machine on the porch and insist that Mr. Moon start removing the tires from his vehicles and putting them up on blocks. And planting petunias in old, abandoned toilets.
Okay. Maybe not. Probably not.
But you never know.