It happened. The boiling frog thing.
I learned the “boiling frog” thing at work. (I’ve found many things I learn at work are handy on the farm, and vice versa.) If you put a frog in cool water and turn on the heat, he will not notice it’s getting hot. He’ll just get drowsy and eventually fall asleep. The outcome is gross. However, if you throw a frog in a pot of boiling water, he jumps right out. Even a dumb frog will jump out.
My dear friend, who was with John and I every step of the way in acquiring this farm nine months ago, read my blog posts and texted me to say she enjoyed them, but I was missing a whole bunch of content about how absurd my life has become. “NO offense,” she texted, “but you sitting in the chicken coop for relaxation taking turns holding the chickens is absurd to many and hilarious! Bart is a finely trained hunting dog and lives on a farm but has to stay in the house for.almost killing the chicken (rooster)…you bringing the goat to work…you carrying the girl goat around for weeks, John building the Taj of chicken coops….”
I did realize our move to the farm had created new, once-absurd behaviors in me – “Oh my gosh, we’re goat people!” or when I was traveling in the Far East, “Jeez, I miss my chickens!” – but today I realized they’ve lost their absurdity to me. I must be the sleeping frog. She was right. And I’m boiled. The happiest, most contented, relaxed boiled frog you may ever meet.
I think it could also be argued that I was thrown into the pot when it was already boiling. I just opted not to jump out. I don’t really think it’s because I am an exceedingly dumb frog….I think I’m just a frog who can take the heat.