I'm a mentally ill person raising another mentally ill person. With chickens.

I didn’t forget

I didn’t forget to post today. I went to Target with my daughter and had a nice time just meandering around. Then I came home to a chicken with poop all over her. She couldn’t puff out her feathers to keep warm or put her head under her wing because she was so matted with poop. I have no idea how it happened, I don’t know if she was in the line of fire, so to speak, or if she rolled in it while dust bathing. But it was super nasty. So instead of eating dinner and sitting down to write about being irritated with my husband’s grandmother and the holidays I gave a chicken a bath in my bathtub and then blew her dry with my hair-dryer. She handled it better than I expected, but it’s not an experience I’d care to repeat.
Good night!

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