I don’t have much to write about today, and that’s exactly what I’m writing about. I live on a farm. How is there not something to write about? Simple. When you are waiting for something, like Georgia heat to slack off or rain to not be making it impossible to mow in the evenings, a type of dull monotony sets in. Hence the title. It is almost hypnotic and the animals almost seem to fall into it too (of course this is an illusion, they don’t know our perceptions)

So I await the break in the monotony. What do I do in the mean time? The thing that is never done on a farm: Cleaning.

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