Cock-a-doodle-doo

Sunday morning I woke up, like any other day and got coffee. Very important.

As Michael and I were sitting in our living room doing the Sunday crossword, which we have to print off the internet because we can’t share, and drinking our coffee, I peered out the front window of our new home. There, right on the front lawn was a rooster. Seriously. A rooster.

“Oh my god.” I said.

“What!?”

“There’s a rooster on our lawn.”

Michael looks out the window. “That’s not a rooster, it’s a squirrel.”

--

“Look out the window! There’s a rooster!”

At which point, I grab my camera and in my bare feet and pajamas, head for the door.

Now, frankly, I had planned on standing on my porch and taking a picture of the rooster, but wouldn’t you know it, the minute I opened the door, the rooster was on the move.

So there I am, on a Sunday morning at 7 a.m. running down the middle of the street in my bare feet and pajamas chasing a damn rooster.

My neighbors must seriously wonder about the new girl.