I always have eggs in my pockets. By the time I get back from the barn or coop I have forgotten the egg(s) and later I will be walking in town or picking up groceries at Kroger and I will put my hands in my pockets and feel the egg(s). If it is at Kroger I sometimes fantasize that a security guard will walk up to me and ask me to empty my pockets and there will be the egg(s).
Last Sunday, I came in from the barn and slipped my green sweatshirt off over my head and plop plop two eggs hit the floor. Later in the day I did the same thing. Plop plop another 2 eggs almost in the same place on the floor. John's response was, "at least they didn't break in your pocket".
Today, I was wearing the same green sweatshirt and collected 2 eggs but this time one smooshed in my pocket before I got back to the house. I think it was probably when I was on the ladder putting the Christmas wreath on the barn.
It was a beautiful day, today; cool but sunny so I let the sheep out and watched them from my portable greenhouse with a Christmas tree in it. It isn't decorated, I just picked the Christmas tree up in the eurovan on Tuesday and it smells so good I can't bring myself to take it out so I drive around with it.
At home my greenhouse is a good place to knit or make Christmas lists or write Christmas cards. I was fantasizing all my friends opening Christmas cards with a picture of 6 sheep and a llama and 6 chickens and a ram on the front.
Not this year.