Tuesday Fail

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4:15am: Wake up, get up for a glass of water; notice that the Rooster isn’t awake.  Wonder if he is okay?  Go to the bathroom.  Go back to bed.

4:19am: Accidentally kick the Cock while climbing over him to get into bed.  Notice what time it is.  Chuckle.  Realize I’m the least mature person I know.

5:00am: Look at the clock.  Can I still really be awake?  I never have a hard time falling asleep.  Consider crying.  Roll over and put pillow over head in an effort to induce sleep.

5:10am: Pillow-darkness is relaxing.  Feel tired.  Drift back to sleep.  Hooray!

5:15am: The Cock starts to snore.  Really, really loudly.  Plug ears and pinch pillow over head even harder.


5:25am: The Cock stops snoring.  Eyes slowly close. Finally sleep. Hooray!

5:30am: The Cock’s 100lb pet dog starts to snore.  I am wide awake again.  Like owner like pet?

5:45am: Cannot take the noise.  Grab a pillow and blanket and head to the living room.  Don’t even remove the dog blanket before I lie down on the couch.  Smells like dog and I don’t even care.  Finally, peace and quiet.

5:55am: Drift into blissful slumber.  Hooray!

6:00am: The Rooster walks by and turns on his office light.  Time for his day to start.  Hold breath and put head under blanket in hopes he won’t see me.  DO NOT want to answer questions or talk to him at this hour.  Consider crying.

6:01am:  Hear Rooster go into bathroom.  Quickly grab pillow and blanket and stealthily sneak back to bed.

6:02am:  Accidentally kick the dog on my way to bed.  Accidentally kick the Cock while climbing into bed.  So much for stealth.  Look at the clock.  Why have I been awake for so long?

6:15am: Fall asleep.  Hooray!

6:30am: The Rooster feeds the 15lb pet dog.  Wake up to the sound of the 100lb pet dog whimpering with food-jealousy.  Consider actually starving the dog to give him something to cry about.

6:45:  The dog stops whining, the Cock isn’t snoring, God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.  Fall asleep.  Hooray!

7:00am: The Cock’s alarm clock goes off.  Wake up.

7:01am: The Cock hits snooze.  Fall back asleep.  Hooray!

7:06am: The Cock’s alarm clock goes off.  Wake up.

7:07am: The Cock hits snooze.  Fall back asleep.  Hooray!

7:12am: The Cock’s alarm clock goes off.  Wake up.

7:13am: The Cock hits snooze. Give up on ever sleeping again.  Consider crying.

7:14am: Get up, zombie-crawl into kitchen for a cup of coffee.  Pass Mother Hen, who is sitting at the kitchen table.  She asks, “So, what’s your plan for today?”  Consider crying.

7:15am:  Wonder if she would judge me for “fortifying” my coffee.  Decide she would.  Formulate plan to sneak wine out of fridge for breakfast.  Judge self.  Forgive self.  Consider crying.




I’m Putting “Great Hair” On My Resume

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One of the benefits of living in the coop is that I don’t have to pay for groceries.  Given, that means I have to eat whatever Mother Hen buys, but she keeps a substantial stock of cheese handy, so it works for me.  On top of that, she has actually given me an allowance.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Not a weekly allowance (I think she knows it would all go towards cheap wine) but every now and then she’ll just give me five or ten or twenty dollars.  One day during my first week in the coop, she gave me $40 “for gas.”  I thanked her and as I walked down the hall to put it in my purse, I ran into Papa Rooster, who handed me a $25 Chevron gift card.  Double win!

In fact, the entire family has been incredibly generous with me.  Just today, Mother Hen and her sister-in-law decided they’d go halfsies on a hair cut for me.  I was floored by the gesture.  How nice!  That’s when Mother Hen said, “yes, it helps to have a good haircut when you’re interviewing!”

Maybe I’m being sensitive, but I think she just told me my haircut sucks and that I need to hurry up and get a job.  Now excuse me, I’m going to go raid the cheese drawer and drown my sorrows in gouda.

Day One: Welcome to The Coop! Now Get Out.

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I had no idea what to expect upon moving into the coop.  I had spent plenty of time with The Cock’s family before, and I felt like I knew them well enough to feel comfortable in their home.  It isn’t getting to know them that is proving to be difficult today; it is getting to know their routine and their comfort levels.  I did not expect to discover so quickly that adjusting to living in a new person’s home would also mean adjusting my sleep schedule.

On the morning after my first night in the coop, Mother Hen and Papa Rooster left at 7:00am and drove eight hours to a pretty city where I went to college.  They were on their way to attend their oldest son’s wedding.  The Cock had already left in his rental car to see to some very important bachelor party activities, and I was to fly down the following day.  Now, get this.  The Hen and Rooster asked if I minded leaving when they did, so that they could just lock up the house behind me.  You know.  The house I’d be living in for the next undetermined amount of time.  The house to which they had already taught me the alarm code.  I had a door key in my pocket.  And yet they were afraid to leave me there alone to lock up for the weekend.

When I heard this, it was like one of those movie-moments where everything slows down and clarity falls upon the protagonist’s head like inspired little rain drops.  Of course.  I thought, “This is my life now.  Oh. My. Gosh.  I’m back in my freshman year of high school.  There is no going or coming without notification to the coop-masters, and there is no more keeping of my own schedule.  Kiss freedom goodbye.  So much for independence.  I’m twenty-five years old and I can’t be trusted to lock a door.”  Over-reacting?  Maybe just a little bit, but I wasn’t too far off the mark.  Anyway, after this terrible revelation, I started remembering how much fun I had my freshman year of high school, and it suddenly became clear what I must do.

I smiled nicely, and said of course I understood and no, I didn’t mind leaving at 7:00am at all.  Why would I?  Then, I put my laptop and a duffle bag full of sweaters in the car, told them to have a great drive, and waved as I drove down the street.  I hopped on the freeway, meditated on nature for a moment, and went to a coffee shop where I enjoyed a very big, very sweet mocha and a breakfast sandwich.  An hour later, I turned around and drove straight back to the coop.  I unlocked the door, disarmed the alarm, and crawled back into bed.  Three hours later, I woke up feeling refreshed and incredibly pleased.  I thought, “This coop thing is going to be no problem.”

The Goose Is Loose

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Welcome, welcome!  Wow, so this is what it feels like to be on the internet, huh?

This is a blog about the experience of living with my boyfriend’s parents.  It’s an attempt to stay focused on the funny, because let me tell you, there is some funny floating around this chicken coop.  Mother Hen and Papa Rooster are very kind and generous to let me live here.  And they are making me freaking crazy.

Let me tell you all about it.