Did you see a little boy walking down your street ringing a bell this morning? He wasn’t trying to bother you. His message was simple. “Hear ye, hear ye, Orchard House Bed and Breakfast is open! Rejoice! Amen.” It’s music to my ears. Fancy pictures are soon to follow, but please enjoy my “beer goggles” den picture as a teaser. That same little boy would be canvassing your neighborhood with flyers, but I have decided instead to feed him his gruel.
The house looks pretty good…if I do say so myself! (Popped collar!) Sure, there are touch-ups to do. We’re also waiting for our sign/mail box to be completed. We should have ordered sooner then the six weeks prior that we did! But, Mr. Fodor and Ms. Frommer, bring it. Cause it’s a-broughten! We have wonderful guests, a terribly messy storage area, and snap dragons breathing balls of gorgeousness throughout the house.
In these times, times of great joy and tiredness, I like to think about what I’ve learned. I’ve had a horse trailer flip off my truck. I’ve replaced toilets. I’m soon to birth a lamb. In olden times, I would have screamed. I would have cried. I would have called for the cavalry. Today, I actually do things. I have taken the proverbial bull by the horns. Truth be told, TMI, I have new chest hair. (Now four in total.) Sure, technical problems still arise, with that beotch DirecTV and the sake wanna-be Roku. When in times of trouble, this Mother Mary beckons “Donnie” at the top of his lungs. But in all other things, I hold my own. I own it. Like Richard Branson and commercial space flight.
So now, I call one, and…I call all, to the Orchard House. We are friendly. We are sweet. And the Napoleon loves to get ear scratchies from his new best friends. By the way, have Ben and Jerry’s sold out? Colbert tells me no. Jimmy Fallon tells me yes. The boy eating his gruel just nods with glee. “What is Ben and Jerry’s, governah? he asks with a smile.