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Tom Coburn is a Big Fat Jerk


Home of the Barking Moonbat


Saturday, January 15, 2005

The fences are falling down

No really, they are. This isn't some kind of obscure hillbilly political metaphor. Sometime yesterday evening or late last night, the back fence fell halfway down.

I knew it was going to happen and have been working on getting all the fences here fixed. The problem is, it's fallen down a month or so before I wanted to fix it. And it's cold out there and I'm still in my jammies. And I haven't even finished the fireplace yet or, for that matter, moved the computer into the kitchen.

This wouldn't be such a big deal except the fenced area is, in part, to keep my dogs (the large hairy beasts) in --- but more important, to keep everything else out.

The fence is, IOW, a symbolic barrier between civilization (my little home and cultivated areas) and barbarianism (the rest of my property where all the critters like deer and bears (!) and fat groundhogs and beaver families and snakes (!!) live.

Inside the fence: me and dogs and a million kinds of frogs and the skinks and gardens and lots of birds and the tiny prehistoric monster lizards.

Outside: mayhem. The neighbor's horses. Possums!

So my little one day hiatus is going to be a two day hiatus. I'll be back tomorrow.


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