I have a ram lamb. He's nearly two months old, he weighs more than thirty pounds, by all common sense I should be able to wean him from the bottle. Can I? No. Why? Because he doesn't know how to drink from a bucket. He's been out there in the pasture with multiple animals whose example he could learn from. He's been on two feedings a day as long as he's been out there. He should have learned. He hasn't. Is this lamb stupid? It doesn't usually seem like it. Grrr.
On a much happier note, tomorrow is Friday. I live for Fridays. Friday is my favorite day of the week. On Friday Mom, at least one brother, and I go to town. We go to the library. I get new, unread books to read instead of what I got last week and probably finished by Sunday night, if I had a lot. If I don't have a lot I'm rereading on Saturday. I'm planning to get some more Josephine Tey, and if we go to the downtown library I'll get the Immortals quartet. I'm still not sure about Redwall, though.
Yesterday, plowing through Miss Snark's archives, I found a post about TIME magazine's Hundred Best Novels Since 1923. My score? Five. Not counting Gone with the Wind, because I skipped over a lot in the last third or so. Eh.
Okay, I need to go do my schoolwork or I won't be able to go to the library after all.
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