a trashy corn crib

My brain oftentimes gets distracted from important things by thinking about animals. As we were returning home today from Rogersville to open a checking account at Eastman Credit Union (the nearest Chase branch out here is two hours away in Knoxville, but up until now, we've been able to do all our banking online -- unfortunately, smart phone deposit amounts are limited, so we needed to buckle down and sign up with a local bank)... wait, what was I talking about again?

Oh right, animals. So, I saw our neighbor's chickens running around as we turned on to our road and decided that today is as good as any to get cracking on cleaning out the corn crib for our future layers and broilers. Some previous lazy inhabitant of our farm decided at one point to use it as a trash receptacle, so I started the arduous task of bagging up someone else's nasty bits.

I didn't find anything exciting except a vintage soda bottle that I think I'll use as a flower vase. Lots of weird, creepy toys, pacifiers, dolls, shoes, neck ties, sweaters, purses, games, rusty hangers, sheets, cushions, literature, books, magazines, canisters, plastic sheeting... you get the picture. Nothing salvageable because everything was breaking down into a big pile of, well, broken stuff. I'm sure that chickens couldn't give less of a shit about garbage in their coop, but you probably know me well enough by now that no chicken coop of mine is going to be filled with trash. Especially because I'd like to try the deep bedding method of dealing with chicken waste/manure.

Also, it was a beautiful, bright, relatively warm day and I've been dying to get started on organizing either the barn or corn crib. I thought it was a good excuse.

Our other dog, er, I mean cat, decided to join me.

Honestly, I just have to call him and he comes. Like a dog.
I even have a leash for him that he really isn't bothered too much by.

SLOBS.

SLOVENLINESS.

The view on my way back down the hill more than made up for bagging trash, though.

A certain monster greeted me upon my return.