One woman's quest to save money, save the planet and save my sanity

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Gave me the boot

Warning: This post contains information regarding an unbelievably handy spouse. Don't be mad. I can lend him out for a small fee.

I've said it before and I'll say it again; the only negative about raising chickens is the unavoidable poop problems. It is everywhere and it is squishy. Did you know that every tenth chicken poop is liquidy? I know you can finally rest easy now that you have that little image in your head. This Power of Ten Juice shoots out and furthers the mess in the run. I guess I shouldn't complain too much because it does make for killer compost.
So the golden chicken rule at our house is that you can NOT go into the chicken run with shoes on that will ever step into my house. For poop wading we all have wellies and they stay outside or in the garage. Well, the garage is located on the opposite side of the house from the coop so we just take our boots off and leave them on the deck before we come in. It's a convenient place to get them on and off, except when it rains. Then you go to throw on your boots and get that extra little love of having your footwear be nasty inside and out.

So after watching me make a hideous face as I put my piggy toes into rainfilled shitboots for the umpteenth time the other day, David decided to take action. That night he brought home the best gift an ecocheapo woman could ever receive - an upside down boot holder made entirely out of repurposed materials! I know, you can't believe how lucky I am. I am getting choked up again.




So this little creative beauty has solved our problem. We had some PVC lying around from when we had to move the coop across the yard like ancient Egyptians rolling stones. The wood is all scrap left over from other projects. It took David's creative spark to put them together in order to conquer the wet boot crisis.

The thing that gets me, though, is that just a few, short years ago he would probably not have even kept these materials and he sure as hell wouldn't have been into getting chickens. I am rubbing off on him. I am molding him into a Repsycholer like myself. My evil plan is coming together. After 11 years of marriage, it's about damn time.

So I love Love LOVE my new boot rack. I am running around yelling at everyone who doesn't immediately put their boots on it. I don't even mind that every morning when I go to get chicken shoes on, I am smiled up at by a big squishy poop footprint.

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