So I was going around feeling all cranky and lonely and sorry for myself yesterday -- it gets pretty isolated out here sometimes, in the middle of 63 acres in the middle of nowhere! It's been especially bad the last couple of weeks, because The Boss has been swotting away at QC-ing a program written by the programmer from Hell -- but that's a whole 'nother post!
We homestead because we want to be here, and the animals are a treasured and integral part of the 'stead, but they do tie one down -- add to that the brutal schedule TB's been on and, well, let's just say we don't get out much!
Anyhoo, there I was, coming in from feeding hay to things (one of my chief occupations!), enjoying a perfectly good pout, and I open the door to? A house filled, filled I tell you, with harp music --
Mrs. Dundas of Arniston, to be precise, being played by Homeschool girl (and she plays it waaay better than the guy on the mp3 -- really, she does!) -- sigh! The thing about the harp is, it always sounds great. It's not like having your kid take up clarinet (done that!) or fiddle (been there!) or trumpet (Oh GOD, no!). You don't have to endure the 'feeding time at the zoo' soundtrack stage. No. It's all good -- an ethereal/elven hall/wrong century kind of goodness that just transports, well, me anyway.
So, whatever the opposite of 'Harshing my mellow' is? That's what she did. Mellowed my damn harsh -- buggah!
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