I didn't sleep well. I am tired. I spent 5 hours last night teaching people how to make jam, and learned this morning that none of it set. I've been making jam since I was a kid, and this is the first time it didn't work. I told everyone I would redo all of it. I went out to check on the chickens (after waiting for the yard sale people to leave the yard). My "non-broody" breed of chicken is broody for the millionth time. I leaned in to poke at her, and another chicken freaked out, jumped on my head, and flew out the door. I live in the city. Chickens are not free-range. Right at this time, my landlord's friend showed up, so he couldn't help herd the chicken back to the coop. Small child started thrashing around, driving the chicken further away. Nice. I came in and tried to sleep. No. Heard chicken in the woods next to the house. Fell several times looking for the blasted thing. Finally saw it in my neighbor's yard - neighbor who is grouchy and curmudgeonly and is pissed we even have chickens. Nice. Meanwhile, my landlord is now in the woods trying to help, while I am falling down in the hidden woodchuck holes and tripping through downed tree limbs. He thinks this is hysterical. The whole time, his 5 year old son is screaming and crying I LOST MY DAD! I LOST MY DAD! SOMEBODY HELP! I LOST MY DAD. The neighbors are crabby, the chicken cannot be found, I am falling down in pricker-bushes, the landlord is laughing, and the child is screaming.
And this is the last night Matt and I were home together, making dinner, right about now. Two years ago right now. This is year two weekend, and I have not enough sleep, an unclear housing future, runaway chickens, failed jam, irritated neighbors, and a small child screaming. And I just burned the crap out of dinner.