Imagine locking yourself in a closet. It’s kind of not a good thing! I remember, when I was five, getting locked in a bathroom stall in a restaurant in London. Was there a space at the bottom to crawl out? Sure. But my parents has said not to touch the floor of a public bathroom. So I screamed until someone busted me out. For a second today, I thought about screaming.
But then again, no one was home. So, I had my 10 seconds of panic. But that’s all I gave myself. And then, like freakin’ Jackie Chan, I gave one swift kick to the door (with my muck boots on), and badda bing, the door was open. “All the ladies who independent…”
This really wasn’t much of a drama though. I had my phone with me and could have called a neighbor. And the door was only shut with a whimsy latch. Luckily, the light was on. I would have lived no matter what. But it’s good to feel like Chuck Norris sometimes. A smart, socially conscious and reasonable Chuck Norris.
Also today, while cleaning the chicken coop, I had a full two-hands full of the bottom of the barrel. Chicken crap, chicken dust, and gross straw. I went to throw it in the wheelbarrow as I had all the other handfuls of hay, when the wind hit, and it all flew back in my face. My mouth was open. I would have thrown-up in the past. Today, I took notice of the direction of the wind, and spit all the chicken “refuse” out of my mouth. “All the ladies who independent…”