Here's the sparknotes recap of the past few weeks:
Not to toot my own horn, but when dropping off the goats, my three were noticeably fatter than any other goats on the farm. Like, Biggest Loser fatter. I was proud.
- Guerrilla Goat Herding: That was the last time you heard from me. On a Tuesday. No real developments since. Word's spreading onto the 6th floor about some "goat kid" two floors below. Well, probably more like "goat kid with poison ivy."
- Poison Ivy: Apparently, the goats got into some poison ivy while on the 5 Acre Woods property. After picking them up, carrying them, etc., I must have got the oils all over my hands. Then I got in the Jeep, played with my weak excuse for facial hair, and proceeded to get the evil ivy oil all over my mug. Went to bed Wednesday an average homo sapiens; woke up on Thursday morning Quasimodo. It was bad. Eyes swollen shut. Neck, ears, cheeks, lips. Everything irritated and huge. Stumbled to the health center and freaked out the nurses. They gave me shots and pills, creams and sprays, shook a medicine bag around my head and chanted counter curses. It still sucked for a solid 72 hours. But I'm healed now. And you better believe I won't ever make that mistake again. Now you know too.
- Thanksgiving Break: That Friday, Harvey Dent face and all, I took the goats out to Miss Charlie's farm to hang out with the old herd so we could all enjoy our turkeys back home. They've been out at the farm since. All according to plan.
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