This morning, at my summertime seven-o-clock, I went outside to take care of my pets. I let Peanut and Blackie out. I let out the geese. I propped open the door, and Mary darted out. She ran right into my stomach, and, though I didn't lay a hand on her, I kicked the shed. Then I grabbed some hay, and slammed it into the basket. Then the shed did an amazing thing.
It fell down. I am not kidding. It honest-to-goodness fell apart into pieces. Mary was outside, and I managed to keep the plywood from falling on me too hard. I got kind of nicked up**, but I didn't even need stitches. Thankfully, I was not trapped, just whacked.
As a result, we need somewhere to keep The Goat. Mary can stay on her chain for a day, and maybe even to sleep (it's warm enough), but Dad says we should just build a sort of stall leaning against the garage.
It's kind of funny to think that only last night, Mary slept in a shed that doesn't exist any more. It's nothing more than the sandy patch of the yard, with a little hay still sprinkled around.
*bizarre †hectic **bruised and scraped
