April showers continue. There are plenty of May flowers already, but no pilgrims yet. How are you this Friday? I’m doing fairly well, if not, functional in some capacity. We’re about to go pick up more chicks for our backyard. Mom is excited about this. I’m not sure how old they are or if they’ll live inside for now. I don’t trust the older ones to be nice if they’re too little.
My memory is very bad of late, so I can’t talk much of my own experiences. Achilles keeps sitting on my shoulders while I brush my teeth, which is cute. I don’t know. The world feels more cardboardish at the moment. I cried listening to a song about conjoined sisters. The cats are now fighting again. What are you doing now? It’s one of my friend’s spring breaks. We had a sleepover a few days ago, which was pretty fun (I got some books from the bookshop). Are you on yours?
Time skip: we’ve just gone out to get the chicks. They’re three tiny, tiny babies who are super cute and loud. Since the last group we got (three hens) were Ophelia, Desdemona, and Beatrice, I’ve named the second group Rosalind, Juliet, and Hermia (black speckled, lavender Orpington, and brown speckled, respectively). Now I need to read As You Like It (and Romeo and Juliet, if you don’t count the Leonardo DiCaprio movie as having seen the play. It is the same dialogue, no?) to make it so I’ve seen every play named a chicken for. I could’ve called it Cordelia, but oops.
Did you ever get chickens again after ours passed? I could imagine why not. Both the death of one and the rest’s semi-gruesome disappearance were awful. I wonder if Mom (Mel) found them and didn’t tell us; it makes little sense for there to have been no remains. There were with our murdered chickens, though I never saw them.
I think I had another dream of you, but it’s gone away now. That’s why I ought to write them down. I miss you. I’m always on Pinterest.
With love,
Alice