* The sickly chick is actually doing a bit better (still not eating on its own, but awake and alert and preening a bit). Three cheers for a household containing all manner of miniature syringes and tubes for this sort of occasion...
* My favorite hen (one of the Araucanas) has a prolapsed vent. Go ahead and Google that, but don't say I didn't warn you. The extruded mass of organs is nearly the size of my fist. Hotter and I decided to give treating this a shot and have confined the bird to a box inside, but I am not terribly optimistic (also the treatment involves minimal feeding to discourage laying, so if it fails the patient won't be very good eating).
* Five minutes after I finished playing chicken obstetrician-proctologist, Lefty called to ask how much a marriage license costs. Evidently he's planning on marrying the pedophile he lives with (think highschool teacher who's been banging him since he was sixteen). I had just finished telling Hotter "you watch, now that we're FLAT-fucking-broke Lefty will marry Pedophyllis (her new blog-name, since she's evidently going to be around a while) or your mom will drop dead, and people will want us to come up to the Arctic Tundra for a wedding or a funeral, and THE ANSWER WILL BE NO." I hate when I'm right.
* Overall today is not impressing me. How are YOU?