This morning I walked out to a freshly scraped windshield. This is what friends do, after all, scrape your windshield, show up in the middle of the night when you need them, and help you move a dead body. Good friends are hard to come by and the ones who are willing to do the above, are a rare breed.

Yes, you read that correctly, a dead body. It’s not as horrible as you might think. Although speaking as someone who had to learn to detach at a young age, maybe it is.

Growing up on a farm had it’s trying moments. When a goose was slaughtered by an eagle, I was the one who found its bloodied feathers and remaining limbs in the yard. When our horse was attacked by a coyote in the middle of the night, I’m the one who found him. A few years later, I would be the one to answer the door in the middle of the night as someone informed me a different horse had escaped her pen and was struck by a car. There wasn’t just tragedy though, we raised our own meat. My sister didn’t eat pork for something like 10 years because she formed an attachment to the food in it’s breathing state. Okay, I may have also had something to do with that but it’s a story for another day. A really funny story. Okay, maybe only funny to me.

The thing is, shit happens. And I know myself. I grow attachments easily to animals and they die. I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t have any pets myself. I’m actively buying a stuffed raccoon for a pet. Yes, I know how odd that sounds. I’m okay with it. It’s more than the fact that they die, it’s a huge commitment that I’d rather only make when know I can keep it. I do believe pets are like family and should be lifetime commitments, not just part-time toys.

My folks are out of town and an old friend and I are feeding their animals. Well, I went out and found a horse in the back paddock, not moving… I called mom, “What do I do?” We talked about some options and when I hung up, I felt a little better. Two minutes later, I was putting hay in the goat pen and I found a dead body. I let out a long breath and called her back. “Ummm a goat is also not moving. The only difference being I’m confident this one is dead.” I could hear my father’s unintelligible grumblings in the background.

After breathing out my current body count, I called my friend. “Am I on speaker phone? I don’t know if it’s a kid-friendly conversation.” I filled her in and she showed up an hour later to move the corpse for me, as I get the heebie-jeebies at the idea. She even walked out in the field to check on the horse. In case you’re wondering, the horse was back up and moving a few very long hours later. But if I’m being honest, I was pricing backhoes.

This all coming off the back of my Uncle’s funeral and an event that I work every year where I’m forced to interact face-to-face with roughly 2000 people. Oh, and it’s finals week at work, I started my period three days early (thank you new birth control), my students are pulling their hair out, I have no voice, and all I want to do is sleep for the next five trillion years.

All this said, my spirits are still high and I’m feeling good about where life is taking me. February is just around the corner. I don’t have a lot planned but I’m looking forward to the rhythm. Plus I have a Harry Potter themed birthday party in March to look forward to so, you know. I do have to keep my eyes out for a list of random party things including all things Harry Potter related, and an old trophy that will make a perfect house cup. Anyone have an old trophy they want to donate to the cause?

Cheers to January being over. I’m ready to move on from this extremely long, long, month, and embrace the rest of 2019. Hopefully, 2019 where there are no more bodies that need to be moved in the middle of the night. Although, if there was one, I know who I’m calling.