Something completely ridiculous happened that I can’t quite believe myself.
Since we’ve moved in to our new townhome, I’ve been using the hashtag #HookersAndChickens across social media when I am waxing poetically about our interesting neighbors in the areas surrounding our townhouse community. (If you haven’t seen these posts, follow me on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram – they are pretty funny!)
There is an escort service to the left of our complex. And an “adult” bookstore. And then another “escort”service.
Across from a KinderCare.
I’m not kidding.
Oh I forgot . . . . . they aren’t really hookers. THEY ARE JUST ESCORTS.
Or so I’m told. And they are hiring. Just in case you are interested.
So when my windows are open and I am enjoying the beautiful Chicago weather, I get to listen to the musical stylings of a rooster. Or a chicken. Every 15 minutes.
Does it really matter if it is a rooster or a chicken??? I think not.
Hense the hashtag, #HookersAndChickens
I needed to find some humor or I would have gone a little nutty at the thought of purchasing a new home in these surroundings.
Now that I have given you the background, I can tell you about the ridiculous thing that just happened. As if being surrounding by #HookersAndChickens isn’t ridiculous enough.
Picture this: I am sitting in my living room in the middle of a Friday afternoon. Suddenly, I hear a dog barking, followed by the rooster squawking and then something large and black slams in to the (closed) window I am sitting next to.
Apparently, a neighbor was walking her dog and stumbled across our little friend who had escaped from his yard. And scared the crap out of it. Fearing for its life, it ran / flew up on to my deck and slammed in to the window to get away from the dog.
No, I do not live in the middle of the country.
Once he ran in to the window and the owner of the dog walked away, we were left staring at this poor thing and wondering what to do with it. My better half decided that we needed to take it back to its home, which was going to require picking it up.
Maybe we will see him again. And maybe we won’t. But I’ve certainly HEARD him since he returned home.
At least the hookers are quiet.