Our House on day of explosion. Those long metal strips in the road are parts of the garage that flew 80 feet and landed there. 7:30 AM to be exact tomorrow AM. I will be there to watch and so will Bill and Spencer, But then Spencer has to get to preschool at 9. Bill says he is sad about it, and that I will be too, and that I do not know how I wil feel until I see it. I maintain that I will be not a bit sad about it, as I am sick of the entire thing and if tearing it downs gets us one step closer to leaving this godforsaken effing goat farm than how bad can that be?????
I HATE the goat farm. I hate the seventies decor, I hate the formica the linoleum and the rose wallpaper all over the place. I hate that it has very little insulation so that it is always freezing cold, I hate the brown shag, the brown water, taking sulfer showers and watching the food chain in action in my own back yard. i hate that my dog came home with a duck in her mouth, and that I even have to know that dogs hunt birds. I hate all the lawn signs protesting the chicken factory or whatever that is supposedly trying to move here. I hate that we have two stinky barns. I hate that we live in this busy road where people fly down it and our dog ran out and was almost killed by one of these cow owning, truck driving yahoos. I hate all skunks, possums, goats, pigs, cows, llamas, alpacas, horses, sheep and that freaking ginormous Great Dane from next door that hangs out in our backyard all the time and lays horrendous turd-a-roonies in our bushes. I hate those weird Amish Children Of The Corn kids who mocked me at the Wilco Farm store when I asked them what they were gonna so with the baby chicks they bought. They were like "Raise them, Like DUH!" I hate seeing guys in Carhart and whiskers and plaid. I hate that I ever have to go into the field with the goat to get Spencer's red wagon and have to avoid stepping and falling into gopher holes. I don't even know what a freaking gopher is nor why they have holes. I hate so many of these weirdos who live out here who look at me like I am insane when I ask them a simple question... "Where do you THINK we will keep the chickens??? In the Coop, of course!!!" You know, I grew up in the suburbs, where the biggest problem was pure boredom. I never had to learn where my food comes from and I am pretty sure I do not need to ever know it now.
Farm Living Ain't the Life for Me. I want my normal kitchen back, to live in my real neighborhood and once again hang out with our friends and talk about normal things and watch each other's kids and trade recipes and all of this stuff, and have fun and just laugh until it gets dark. I want to sit on my patio and not smell and hear cows and donkeys and whatever the f*ck else that guy next door owns....I want to yell at Spencer for driving his Jeep too fast.
I sound like a spoiled rotten little bitch right now, one who was not previously aware that goats are "good eatin'." I wish there was some kind of gas I could inhale that would put me asleep until our house is built and we are all moved in. I am ready for the beginning of the end of this nightmare, so tear the freaking piece of crap, that monument to disaster RIGHT DOWN. Tomorrow AM is fine but if you want to start tonight that is okay too. And I will be the LEAST SAD person there.
