Lili Saintcrow @lilithsaintcrow@raggedfeathers.com

In short, like Sun Tzu, I was not where my enemy expected, and therefore defeated him.

Today I’ve learned that I am at least smarter than a domesticated turkey.

Which is profoundly and absurdly comforting.

Yeah. Like that.

That moment as your descending foot touches something that might be a dog, so you leap sideways to avoid hurting a furry friend and bang against the wall, gaining a deep varicolored bruise.

Anyway, before that can happen, coffee needs to be finished and dogs need to be walked. Probably while listening to Redbone.

I get to see if the turkey who attacked me yesterday has forgiven me yet.

I will be carrying a shovel in case he's still piqued.

Some days are like that--everything is just slightly off true, just set a fraction off center.

Even the trees look secretive today.

Half an hour until I can go to bed.

Not sure if I'm gonna make it. It's been a day feeling like six minutes to midnight the whole way through.

"...he paid no more attention to her and Eddie than he would an unsolicited fruit basket."

I can tell I'm having fun with this story.

Just guessed the plural of "amanuensis" correctly, so I've that going for me today.

Unrelated: Spotify is serving up Kruder & Dorfmeister, and I'm feeling very 90s Hacker right now.

So if you can't stand the smell or the naked tails or the beady little eyes or the disease vectors, maybe reconsider. That's all I'm sayin'.

Anyway, all you urban folks looking to get a few chickens in your yard because you saw a glossy magazine spread, beware: Chickens mean rats. They go together.

It is a measure of deep love if I will put up with rodents for ANYONE.

I know they're smart and cute and plenty of them are fuzzy and make good pets. I just... am not a fan.

Also: "No, it was four rats, not one rat glimpsed four times. There was no Schrodinger's rat." #saidtoday

Please note said fowl was not harmed or menaced, just territorial and feeling his oats. So to speak.

Today I was attacked by a large, half-domesticated fowl, so I can cross that off my Life Experiences List.

If you don’t want to be spoken ill of after you die, don’t be a giant piece of billionaire shit while alive. It’s that simple.