Rain, Rain, Go Away...

The coop isn't done. My back still hurts. My little sister graduated today and I wasn't there to see it (but I watched it online, thanks to the university live-streaming the ceremony). So proud of her. :)

I didn't get out to the urban farm this week due to my back injury before the first work day, and my sister's commencement ceremony during the second. I wouldn't mind so much but it started raining shortly after noon and hasn't stopped so I've been putting off doing any work outside at all, which means my garden still isn't planted either, and since the weather has suddenly gone from 40s and rain to 70s and rain, I'm really worried about missing the best part of the planting season.

The chickens are out in their run for the day. They need to get used to being out there full-time now that the weather has warmed up, although I still can't leave them outside overnight until I can finish the coop. We saw a racoon up the hill on the way home the other night; I'm now twice as worried about leaving my little featherbutts unsupervised. They seem to be ok so far, other than mad about the rain. The run roof isn't fully finished and the wind blew rain into the covered part as well as soaking through everywhere else. They're huddled in the back corner under the coop where it's still dry, and they scolded me when I go out to check on them. Poor girls!

The girls yesterday, enjoying the cool evening breeze.

If the rain stops at some point today I can get the fourth wall of the coop set up and ready to put on, as well as getting the roof cuts made and maybe even start on the nest boxes. Once all that's done the final touches should be easy! Here's hoping, anyway.

Struggling

It's been a struggle this year. I've been having mood swings that might properly be termed bouts of depression. I haven't finished my sister's handmade Christmas present or the gift for my friend's baby daughter that I started in December. I haven't exercised since some time last year, unless occasionally hanging from the pull-up bar in the kitchen doorway counts.

And I've been working 40 hours a week, and the spring has been cold and wet and miserable when I've been off, and sunny when I'm stuck at work till 10pm, and I haven't gotten the chicken coop done or written any blog entries or kept the sink clear of dishes or anything.

By the way, we got chickens.


And then tonight, in an utterly embarrassing move, I strained my back... picking up a cat.

yeah.

Basically the cat got into the basement and I don't like closing him down there sans litterbox, so I went to grab him and must have reached too far out from my crouching stance. It felt something like having a knife through my back just above my left hip, and every pain receptor in the area lit up light a christmas tree. It was not dignified and it made me feel very old and weak and tired all of a sudden. I really did not need to feel any older or tireder or weaker, but the universe has a sick sense of humor.

The ibuprofen, ice pack, menthol rub and wine are helping. And now I have the time to blog, because I can't exactly go out and do any more work on the chicken coop (although I did insist on finishing and mounting the gate to the run, despite the pain). Moving hurts, damnit. I just hope that by tomorrow I can manage at work. I do not want to have to explain that I, captain of the safety team and worker who routinely picks up and sets down 50lb boxes of tile, picked up a 5lb cat the wrong way.

The cat is fine, in case you were wondering.