Remember the baby pile-up I mentioned in my last post. Hahahahahahahahaha. Sunday the very next day, we had a baby, then seven more over the week while clinic went on and Fiona the chicken died and it rained and the sun cam out and I grabbed the lady in the whirlpool at the new swimming pool by the boob (oops) so she wouldn't go under (she had had a stroke six years ago so her coordination wasn't too good). I excused myself for the boob grab and she was gracious about it. I managed to get to her arm after the breast situation so I partially saved myself embarrassment. Then we talked about children and grandchildren and her stroke and the healing waters of a 96 degree pool and a 104 degree whirlpool.
I am SO GRATEFUL that the most beautiful pool in Seattle is in a poor people's neighborhood. So people who don't have access to fancy spas and saunas can come and pay six bucks to sit in whirly water and get some aches and pains soothed, at least for a while.
The new pool even has a jetted waterway you can float around in by the big yellow slide.
I would like to live there. I could put a little cot behind reception.
Fiona the chicken was stiff and dead when I went out to let them out one morning. Now we're having a conversation about getting more chickens and I don't wanna. You have to separate new chickens from the old one(s) because they peck and harass each other. Sheesh. Then you introduce all and hope for the best. No more naming and being fond of individuals. They die. And when you bring them into the house, phew.
But Lucy is probably lonely.
There was a dead rat at the bottom of the basement stairs in the midst of last week. I picked it up by the tail and put it in the garbage. Thanks Hugo, beast of the house.
I'm going home now. I think I'm safe to leave the clinic. The current new babies are all ok and so are their parents. I have done my job.