I am annoyed at the poor chickens. Having been vegetarian again for a while, I had hoped to sleep better, but now my butter, my leather jacket and my shoes talk to me constantly. I embrace silence. Noise gives me a headache. So, I am grumpy. Grumpy with the less-than-perfect world we live in, grumpy that people are so careless. Most of all with my own laziness. You do know that cows need to be kept gravid to produce all that lovely milk from which all your yummy butter and cheese is made, no? Oh, bitterness. I do so love butter. And eggs are used in so many things! It is not the eggs, per se, that bother me. It is the way they are obtained. I am sure you also know that chickens only produce eggs for a very short part of their naturally-occurring lives. I am not saying each egg is sacred; I don’t do sacred. But cruelty is another thing. And inconsistency is troublesome to me. I don’t like tofu either. And I am too lazy to separate my paragraphs, just like I’m too lazy to cook scrumptious vegan meals.
My soles are sorely aggravated.
At least I’m not a battery hen.