The House of the Rotting Veggies

This is what lunch break is like at my work at the small animal clinic. I don't really work at a small animal clinic though. I just stole that from this blog because it's always best not to talk about work on a blog. And because NO ONE that reads this blog has any idea what I do for a living. And because this blog is totally anonymous.

So I was done with my lunch and about to get back to work when a person who may or may not be a coworker calls me over to the far corner of the break room and says, "What would be the opposite of, you know, that area?" (makes motions using both hands around the top of her jeans). Seeing the total confusion on my face, she repeated, "You know? Virginia!?!?"

I didn't even know a vagina had an opposite. I thought opposites lived in the realm of adjectives, not nouns. The confusion must have shown on my face because the coworker says, staring intently at her cell phone, "Wouldn't your butt be more the opposite of your vagina, not your back?"

I still can't figure out why either one of those would be the opposite of a vagina and offered up the possibility that perhaps it would be the top of one's head. She gave me an exasperated look at my lack of ability to decide between the butt and the back and returned to texting away on her phone.

Other coworkers continued their chit chat about low salt recipes, seemingly oblivious to our conversation. I realized my break time had run out and rushed away without ever finding out why a vagina needs an opposite.

That's the great thing about my work. It's hilarious and mysterious. I'd list the not so great things, but I was totally kidding about this blog being anonymous and then I'd have to be fired. Probably.

At home, The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken's productive hobby is trucking right along. Veggies and leaves and stuff are rotting even now in them thar' compost bins. And we got dirt for the garden.

Here's the dirt going into the truck:And here's the dirt coming out of the truck:What can I say? He has a funny way of getting dirt out of a truck (*shrug shrug*). I'm not kidding - drilling is EXACTLY what he started doing when he said it was time to get the dirt out of the truck. No joke. Of course there's a perfectly reasonable explanation, but describing it would be akin to asking my coworker why a vagina needs an opposite.