After a long day at work, Irish pulls in the driveway and exits the truck into the wind and cold.
Heading to the barn he's greated with 3 hungry horses nickering, knowing that hay and grain are on the
dining menu, again. I wish I could be happy eating the saaaaame ooooold foooood everyyyyyy daaaay.
Fed, watered and grained I do a little tidying, bid them adieu and saunter up to the mailbox.
It's cold and windy still but the stars are amazing. Pausing, I find Orion and then the Big Dipper and
If the aliens were smart they wouldn't bother coming here.
I grab the mail, junk I can tell, and head into the house with a plan of making a nice spicy chili.
As I take off my boots and coat I notice one of the unsolicited "Current Resident" pieces of mail.
My exact words, out loud, to no one in particular were "You have got to be fucking shitting me"
The chili is on the back burner for now. I had to share this.
It's a brochure for clothing.
Uh huh... I know where this is heading......
Yup, flip over and.....
Let's peek inside...
Oh ya baby, sign me up.....
I really think I need to start working on Friday Femme Fatale before I try and eat my chili....