I am anal.  I like clean floors, shiny faucets, unsoiled countertops and hairless couches, chairs, blankets, towels, clothes...you get the point.

I know this about myself.  I accept it.  I surrender to it almost daily, and I am not proud of it.  What I didn't know was that being anal on the farm makes life a little, hmmm...harder.  Abel definitely doesn't help my condition either, but he's cute and cuddly and is ecstatic to see me after a mere eight hours.  He doesn't figure into this equation...that much.

So being anal on the farm isn't exactly the most ideal situation, especially this past week.  Thick, chocolate, messy mud has swallowed up the gravel roads, paths, and any layer of ground that is not paved, which is pretty much every layer of ground.

Today we moved back down to our house, where there is carpet in the basement.  I believe I will be utilizing the vacuum more than usual until the weird warm weather disappears, along with the chocolate, thick mess that comes with it.  

Mud+Abel+Me being anal=Disaster

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