Blinded by the Light

I have lived in the same neighborhood for ten years, and for ten years I have walked what I have dubbed the "walk of doom" uphill through two neighborhoods and back. It's an hour long workout and a pretty good one at that. Yesterday I went on the usual walk of doom but noted two very unusual incidents in two separate neighborhoods.

In neighborhood one, I was making my way up the first hill and saw what appeared to be a big black crow digging around in some one's lawn. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a chicken. In someone's front yard. Weird. (Zacky Farms commercials have ruined my perception of chickens, because I totally thought chickens were white. But no.) Alas, big black chicken. I thought it odd and carried on.

As I was winding down my walk in neighborhood two, I came across TWO chickens in someone's yard. In the front yard of my old house, even. Say what? Twice. What what? This is a sign, I thought! What were the odds that on the same day I saw chickens in a yard not once but twice? And in the yard of a house I used to live in? I busted out my cell phone from my sports bra and hurriedly looked up the symbolism of chickens.

My google search yielded a preliminary and scary result. Chickens symbolize fertility. Yikes! Not now. Oh, Lord. Please. Whoa. No.

I arrived home to find my sister and her (very, very pregnant) friend seated in the living room. Phew! Not it!

I settled in to look up an alternative meaning. Scrolling...scrolling. Ah.

"The chicken is a transitional creature, one poised on the liminal threshold of change. They must be aware in darkness, for they wake in that time and place and know to look for the light; they are the early worshippers of the enduring cycle of life."

That's more like it.

For the past few weeks, I've been camping in my house as it's up for sale, and my sweetie awaits me in New Jersey. It has not been fun. I have no cable, no Internet, and am at the beck and call of Realtors and goofy ass buyers calling me from my driveway at 0800 to see if they can view my home. If they do make an appointment, 50% of them are no shows, and one Realtor called today to confirm a time so he won't "bail on me." I swear he was a 15 year old surfer. What kind of professional says that?

It's been hard juggling home repairs, constant cleaning, missing my sweetie, and indescribable boredom. But there will be light! A new and wonderful life awaits. I just have to make it through this darkness.