Digging away

Well, I can now cross one more item off my list of sketchy things to do before I die. Today I dug a grave. Not a very big one since it was for a budgie, but hey a grave is a grave. Wanna know what I noticed? Well too bad, you're gonna hear it anyway. Digging a hole in the ground is fucking hard. It's all smooth sailing once you get to the earth itself, but after tonight I think grass would make a good substitute for a bullet proof vest.

Now call me insensitive, but I think that when an animal this small dies you just shove it in a hole (or down the toilet if it fits) and get on with your life. Alas, today I almost drowned in my house from all the tears. What for? A bird? These things shouldn't be pets, they should be dinner. If you're going to have this much trouble dealing with the loss of 6 ounces of feathers, then how will you go on when a person dies? Death is a natural part of life, vital to the ecosystem, balance of nature, and all that crap.

Now then, a small invitation to throw out. August 6th at 9:00 I'll be grabbing a few beers with some people from work at Ye Olde Orchard. Anyone who wants to stop by just to make sure I don't change my mind about leaving is more then welcome. This isn't an official going away party, but I'm not sure if I want one so take your opportunities when you can.

Finally, show of hands, does anyone still read this or am I ranting to myself? Cause the ranting goes on in my head anyway... this is just finger exercise.