Sitting of the House

This weekend, my parents left me responsible for taking care of the farm. I figured that the task couldn’t be that difficult. I grew up there, I managed to keep anything bad from happening in the past. I happily agreed and they packed up and headed east to Kenora, Ontario for a hockey tournament.

I grew up on a grain farm where we grew mostly oats and canola. We would occasionally have random animals such as chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys or cows, but my parents haven’t had any livestock since the neighbourhood foxes had dinner in our barn. Therefore, taking care of my parents farm really isn’t much different than taking care of a house in the city.

My only responsibility was to make sure that the dogs and cats had food, water, and got outside frequently enough to do their business (I think the cat might be running an illegal weapons cartel, but I don’t have any hard evidence yet to support my theory). Heating is also a major concern in the winter up here in Canada to make sure that the water pipes in the house don’t freeze and crack. Luckily, there wasn’t any major snow storms this weekend and the power kept the furnace roaring hot.

The weekend went off without any sort of a disaster. I managed to keep the animals alive which I consider a major accomplishment, and I didn’t burn down the house which I am pretty impressed with. All things considered, I think I might actually volunteer to watch their homestead again in the future.

There was only one issue that I had, the coffee maker. My mom still owns one of these perky, noisy, slow old school coffee machine that has to harvest the coffee beans from Columbia itself, then roast and grind them, then heat the water to the right temperature, all before finally deciding that it is ready to start dispensing my first cup of coffee in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, coffee tasted delicious. However, it would take an entire three minutes to make me a pot of coffee which is completely unacceptable. I really need to bring my mother into 2015 and get her a Keurig so I won’t have to endure the exasperating pains of the prehistoric technology in her house first thing in the morning ever again. That was painful.

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