right out of the packaging

right out of the packaging

Good morning, y’all. It’s Saturday, y’all. We’re consuming coffee and watching Dateline repeats. Shawshank is working on a shopping list. It’s cold.

We had to take the heating pad away from the cats. It was Pippin’s fault. First, she was chewing on the fleece pad we had over it. Then, after Shawshank took that away from her, she kept trying to nibble on the pad’s fabric cover. She’s pouting, but not giving up the foot rest. Chaucer is on Shawshank‘s lap.

Today is shopping day. We’ll be making the trip out to Slightly BiggerTown, where we’ll make our circuit between the grocery store, lunch, and the dispo.

Just as I was finishing up the morning posting and shit, Shawshank‘s dad called to let us know the cows were in and calving this morning. I had hardly overheard him say they would be heading up in 30 minutes before I was off the couch and looking for pants.

Fresh babies 🥰🐄

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