Why I Think There Is Something Very Wrong With Me

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I’ve just returned from online auction Hell.  I bid on a small structure in a construction auction to serve as the base for a chicken tractor we are building.  I realize that’s probably weird enough by itself. (In case you’re not familiar with chicken tractors, think small chicken coop on wheels that you can roll around the yard-- keeping the grass greener, the chickens full, and the cleaning chores simpler.)

But the deal with these online auctions is that you must take everything in the lot.  From the photos, I knew we purchased several structures, but we really weren’t prepared for what we “won.” J 

Today was pick-up day.  We kept staring at all the stuff, and even though we brought a pickup truck and a flatbed trailer, it was definitely overwhelming.

Photo by Dwayne Smith:  Can you find the chicken tractor in here?  And yes, we did strap it all down.

And right off the bat, my dear husband almost knocked me off the loading dock head-first, which would have sent me sprawling on the concrete several feet below.  However, I am (almost) sure he wasn’t aiming for me when he turned hastily with the large chicken coop structure that I was presently attached to.

Mind you, it took us several hours to load this stuff up, and head back home Beverly Hillbillies-style .  All the while we were doing our usual dance of careful admonitions and reckless driving.  People were staring and pointing wherever we went.  And did I mention that the aftermath of Hurricane Isaac was chasing us down the freeway, on the only day that we were allowed to pick up the load?

I’ve heard that normal people go to Lowe’s and buy building materials.  Or better yet, they order chicken tractors and have them delivered.  The really normal ones probably buy eggs at the grocery!  But I am far from normal.  In fact, I am beginning to think there is something very wrong with me.

For months I have been preoccupied with chicken coop plans—reading chicken e-zines, spending hours on chicken boards on Pinterest, and eyeing every roadside castoff as the possible start of my chicken coop project.  I think the word I am looking for is obsession.  And all because I just want a few fresh eggs.

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It’s not that my unbridled enthusiasm hasn’t gotten me into trouble before.  But this project seems to be a hands-down winner.

A new friend even hatched my chickens for me in her incubator and was hand-raising them until they were big enough to come home.  But they were eaten by a predator that snuck into her chicken barn.  My sister claims this was a sign from God to stop the chicken madness.  I was saddened, of course, but not deterred.  We will begin again, and we will prevail.  Like I said, there is something seriously wrong with me.  Don’t you agree?

Right now I’m dreading unloading the flatbed trailer, as I’m already having trouble standing up after jumping up and down off the loading dock that had no stairs.  After we unload, the real work of building the chicken tractor can begin.  Stay tuned for how that turns out…

If you’d like to weigh in on how crazy I am, please feel free.  Or even better, please share the craziest thing you’ve done lately in the comments below.  You know you want to.

Marianne M. Smith
Writer At The Ranch
Making You Look Brilliant One Word At A Time
http://writerattheranch.com
wordsmith@writerattheranch.com