My sick addiction.

I’m pretty sure that livestock is a drug.

 

Seriously, it has to be an undiagnosed opiate of some sort. There is no other explanation for why it was -35 freaking degrees and I was wandering around outside with three pairs of pants, two jackets, and a pair of coveralls on; feeding with a smile under my balaclava (ultra cool ninja mask). I was kind of horrified when I realized that I couldn’t wait to go check the cows. I’m sick, sick, sick I tell ya.

 

Or maybe I just wanted to practice my ninja skillz. WHA-CHA! The deluxe winter Lauren action figure comes with hay throwing motion and ice chopping axe! KII-AII!

 

Or perhaps  it was because I would throw the good alfalfa hay down to the cows from the barn loft and I was distracted by the cold thinking: “I wonder if this is the bovine version of manna from heaven?”

 

It really goes to show that it takes all kinds. I am pretty sure that someone out there would think feeding a bunch of dirty old cows in the freezing cold with snow up to their knees is hell, while I kinda think feeding a herd of black beauties in the muffled quiet that only comes during the pristine white world of winter is heaven on Earth.

 PS: I am really hoping God get’s it, or I will have to get really used to that cold layer of hell…