I had a great time at work today. I was fixing goodie bags for the residents' Christmas gift, and my fellow hypo-manic friend, Erin, popped by and helped me. She is often afraid to come by my office because when we get together, we get sucked into a conversational tractor beam and it's very hard to break free.
Erin rides dressage and I think most people in her family are horsey-set farm-dwellers. When she married her husband, he moved from Boston to Texas and of course spent a lot of time with Erin's family. Somewhere along the way, he casually mentioned that he'd always wanted a goat.
Erin said "never say something like that around my family, because they will GET you a goat." Sure enough, one day someone brought him a baby goat, of which he is exceedingly fond.
She said if they are not neutered, boy goats start emitting an eye-watering musk when they mature, and the time came that Corky needed to be rendered a eunuch. Apparently the whole thing of neutering farmish animals is a very casual affair, and Erin insisted that Corky be taken to a proper vet and administered some sort of sedative during the ordeal. After all, Corky was a pet, and not some mere anonymous beast of the field.
Nope. Country vet showed up and had Erin's husband hold the crying goat down as he stopped the family line right in its tracks. Erin had flung herself on the bed and put a pillow over her head singing the national anthem in hopes of not hearing the goat. Apparently she still heard the cries of distress.
I played her the I wanna goat for Christmas mp3, and she was delighted and couldn't wait to play it for her husband.
Anyway, seeing her made the day great - we laughed and laughed. It's funny, because we start talking and chase rabbits all over the universe, and every time I've seen her, later on I remember at least a dozen sentences or stories I never finished because we were suddenly off on some completely different subject. I suspect we seem strange to other people, but to us, we are refreshingly normal.