I might as well grow fur.

I live in a barnyard.

Literally.

I can walk out my door and, if I forget to look down, I will more than likely step in horse poop.

I can watch the steers graze from my bathroom window while I brush my teeth.


There’s more gravel and mud in my entryway than there is out in the corrals.

Somedays I think I am literally growing fur just to fit in.

But then I remember it’s been three weeks since I shaved my legs.

Civilized women shave their legs.

But what’s the point? Really? I mean I’ve been back  home at the ranch nearly two years and it seems that whatever refinement I picked up while I was away living along city streets has slowly dissolved out here where the racoons help themselves to the cat food and pets show up at your door missing eyeballs.

I mean surrounded by characters like these, it’s only a matter of time until I start taking on their behavior and characteristics.

I’m afraid it’s already happening.

Because I’ve been known to show up to the hair salon or shopping mall with woodticks stuck to my head, find cockleburs in my bed and arrive at the office with horse hair on my jacket and mud on my fancy shoes. I’m afraid if I already smell like my barnyard friends, I might as well start rolling around in the grass…

chewing on sticks…

sneaking up on mice…

and howling in the kitchen….

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9 thoughts on “I might as well grow fur.

  1. Sounds all so familiar and comforting. I arrived at an awareness about the hairy legs deal…..If you dont shave you dont have to wear dress’s :-)

  2. LMAO. Our choir director and significant other own a horse farm and our choir room smells like a stable. No, not any religious significance, but, you are what you are and we love you.

  3. let’s do something crazy, something absolutely wrong , a sight for sore eyes and a view to kill .
    No, I never miss a beat * I will chew people, but won’t eat them *I just grow fur :)

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