Tumbling, Tumbling, Tumbleweeds

You know your house is in a pretty bad state when you are apologizing to the cable guy for the mess.  The dust bunnies are reaching the size of tumbleweeds.  In the past few months, I have gone from having a full time job homeschooling and keeping up the house and animal farm, to driving four days a week to Anna's classes in a nearby city.  Because of the distance, I find something to do there, or work with William on his schoolwork.  Multi-tasking on the house, however, is impossible.

Dh buys more clothing to compensate for the black hole that seems to have opened up in the laundry basket.  Thinking that the cleaners is, well, taking me to the cleaners, I decide to iron his shirts myself.  They sit in a pile, waiting and collecting dog hair.

It has occurred to me that I have started a full-time job, more or less, without the organization and preparation that should come with such a transition.  Soon, she will be able to drive herself, although a new driver in rush hour traffic isn't optimal.  We have only to get through this month and the classes will be over.

Notes:
Twenty-six adults and children came to my farm to learn about raising horses and chickens.  I always enjoy sharing what I know about animals.

We have frost on the ground, and it is 29 degrees F.

We got hay delivered yesterday, and William, consistent with his age, wanted to be friendly and show off his bantam chicken.  He put Aunt Rita on his head and walked around with her, expecting the guy to notice, which eventually he had to because William was in the way of the hay stacking.  Later, as we got out of the car to go to martial arts class, William leaned over.  "Smell my hair," he asked.

"I don't want to smell your hair," I refused.  "Why should I?"

"Well, I had a chicken sitting on my head."  I assured him that the stocking cap he was wearing likely protected his hair, I gave a swift sniff, and approved him for going in to a room to sweat with a bunch of other kids who likely would not smell his hair.