Is Quentin Tarantino directing my life now? Or am I being punished for making fun of Abraham Lincoln's dancing skills? Come on, Lincoln may have been known for a lot of great things, but none of those was dancing.
But seriously...first I'm nearly eaten by food (never get between a piglet and its breakfast) then we have a tornado rip through town. And like the genius I obviously am, I chose to face the cyclone rather than braving the basement. Oh, it worked out ok, but let's just say, it wasn't my best decision, considering some of the damage I've seen around town. And now? I wake up to three agents from the Georgia Bureau of Investigations on my front porch with semi-automatic rifles, looking for an escaped fugitive and they wanted to search my basement.
I find this somewhat amusing, only because the basement beat out a tornado on my scary meter, and now I've got three armed men searching for a fourth armed man down there in what reminded me of a scene from Silence of the Lambs.
There was no one hiding in my basement...or my barn...thank goodness. But I'm definitely locking my doors at night from now on.
You'd think the ducks would have seen this coming.
Until the next time...I'll be sending Lincoln in with his vampire hunting weapons.