I'm standing in the kitchen at work, and I hear, "Blah blah blah I live in Level Cross blah blah blah FARM SITTER blah blah blah CHICKENS blah blah blah".
Farm Sitter? Level Cross? I pipe up, "So I have a friend near you guys that I used to farm sit for - how long does it take you to get to work? Come to think of it, my friend might could use a new farm-sitter since it's too far for me now."
He replied, "Oh, about 30 minutes, but you should tack on another 20 from your friend's place. What does she have?" I replied, "Sheep and Border Collies."
So I tune back out of the conversation, and go on about the business of washing the tea cup (the one that belongs to my boss). Did I ever mention that when I walk through the halls carrying his teacup that I hear the "Imperial Death March" in my head? I do. I even breathe a little bit like Darth Vader. Or a sleestak. Or Darth Vader eating a sleestak. Or maybe a sleestak eating Darth Vader. Whatever, but I hear the song.
I digress.
I'm tuned out again, until I hear, "Oh, but really, horses, cows and sheep are really just all the same".
Errr?
Here's where I begin to run amok. Afoul of the culture. In it with both feet. I pipe in (remember, I'm not really part of this conversation) "Oh but really sheep, cows and horses are not the same at ALL!"
I then proceeded to run my yak about how sheep can be a bit more inclined to fall over dead on you, and farm sitting border collies can take a special touch and so on. Oh yeah, I really know how to make friends around here. I'm not sure if the looks on their faces were looks of horror or glazed over boredom, but I sure did manage to clear out the break room in record speed. Hey, they should be grateful I didn't move on to butchering and having sheep in one's freezer. They're lucky I didn't get into a long diatribe about horses not being able to throw up, and colic, and all sorts of things. That would have taught them to think twice about allowing me to actively eavesdrop on them! So there.
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