Sunday Night

I'm bored. Well, the chickens are still alive. I went looking for them in the woods and found them, not too far, kicking back in some underbrush. They gave me the usual, "We're not dead, you big headed idiot, piss off and go pay attention to your family and loose the uni-brow it's not working for you", look. I splashed them with my coffee and went back to being driven bat-shit crazy by my children. Anyway, its almost nine, the girls are in bed and I'm going outside to make sure the hens are back in their house. Night time is the only time they will talk to me. I sit up against the shed, in the darkness, and have a conversation with them. I make this soft, "dook dook dook" sound ( in a whispering Miss Piggy, kind of way) and they quietly respond to me, which sometimes makes me cry.