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In case you have forgotten, we own chickens. I hate them. I have always hated them. The seem to live to leave feces around the yard. I don’t think I would mind them as much if they weren’t alive.
Recently a friend came over and told me his husband would love chickens. I asked him if he would like to take mine. They’re still here so I’m guessing the answer was no.
But while we were talking, I also divulged my psychotic Simon Baker break at the Jazz game. And he came up with a rather brilliant idea.
He suggested I call the chickens Simon Baker and then I might like them more.
So here they are.
I’ll let you know how it goes.