I was mousing around yesterday and came across a longevity calculator. Answer forty questions (food, meds, history,…) and find out how much longer the insurance boys bet you’re going to live. Apparently for me, 500 more days – give or take.
We have a modest little farmhouse on six acres of wooded New Hampshire mountainside that we maintain for the benefit of two dogs, three cats, four Mallards, five Pekins, six hens a layin’, seven sugar gliders, and a partridge in a pear (and apple and cherry and peach) tree.
When we first moved in five years ago the electric service in the barn looked like little Tommy Edison’s first show and tell project – rusty knife switches, bare wires screwed to the wall, ancient fuse holders. Indoor plumbing wasn’t even a gleam in anyone’s eye when the house was built. We had a two-seater built over buckets that were hauled down the hill when they got full.
We heat with wood from our own property. While splitting cordwood yesterday I wondered what to do with those final 500 days. That’s a long time for some things but not so much for others. The good news is I’m at my best when I have a deadline.
Gathering eggs this morning I had a thought. Maybe I could keep an online diary – shedding the corporate yoke, living small, things I like, some I don’t. I asked the hens what they thought. I could tell from the way some tilted their heads they approved.
The chickens have voted and I always trust the collective wisdom of the clueless – it’s the American way. I raced back to my computer and made my first entry – cordwood, calculator, eggs, voting. Easy peasy. I’ll be done in no time.
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I’d love to hear from you. Leave a comment at the end of anything that tickles your fancy or raises your hackles.