Dear Diary,
Today we let the chickens “free range.” They pecked at a wall of dead foliage which I eventually ripped down creating a “dead stuff jungle gym.”
My great Aunt Alice stuck her head in the oven like Sylvia Plath.
I finally strung up some corn. I bought the pre-shucked kind so there was no clear spot to wrap the string and also I didn’t have string so I secured gold ribbon between trenches dug by kitchen sciossors.
My great Aunt Boo lost her eyebrows via over plucking.
I think chickens are attracted to shiny things.
There is always something caught in my throat.
a.
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