Chickens are terrifying monsters, not cute little animals to write children's stories about

I will forever have nightmares about chickens. This morning there were two dead ones on the ground when I went in their coop to feed them. The dead ones were surrounded by other chickens that were eating its corpse. When I left the cage to fill up their water container, one chicken snuck out between my feet and tried to run off. Fortunately, she was too stupid to get very far, but as Jake (the dog) and I chased her down, I noticed she was carrying something in her mouth. She dropped it just before we finished chasing her back into her cage, and after I locked her in, I stooped down to look at it. It was the intestines of one of the dead chickens. I wanted to throw up. I hate chickens.

The Packs are on another fishing trip, so I'm watching the house for them again. On their last night before they left, Noah and Kamryn decided they wanted to sleep with me, so there were two kids, a dog, and a Lint Monkey all sleeping in one bed. We would have fit fine, except Noah decided to sleep sideways and spend all night kicking me, whining, and shoving me with his feet. If I couldn't tell by his breathing that he was really asleep, I would have thought he was doing it on purpose just to be a pest. (He does stuff like that a lot.) Then at about six in the morning, I woke up to Noah jumping up and down on my face, commanding me to wake up while the dog tried to play Tug of War with my forearm. After that, it's really nice having the run of the house. Plus, I get to use their internet, so I have more than twenty minutes to update my blog. Except not right now, because my laundry just finished, which means it's time to put it in the dryer and then go finish washing those windows for Rolf before he gets back from his fishing trip.