I’ve written a lot about why we chose to move out of the suburbs and into the country. If you’ve spent any time on this website, you’ll already know that liberty was a big factor for me. The truth is that freedom always comes with a cost, and sometimes it can be pretty ugly.
The story I’m about to relay might be a little shocking for some of you. I apologize if it’s upsetting, but I feel compelled to share the good stories along with the bad. The weekend before last brought a lot of excitement to the Ant Farm, but very little of it was the good kind.
Leigh was out of town on a beach trip with some friends from college, and I was “batching” it with the kids. After a hard day of picking up brush and seeding the field, the kids and I were out late Saturday night consuming insane portions of fried goodness at Top o’ the River.
At 6:15am I was awakened to a very strange sound. It was one of those groggy instances where you question whether you actually heard it or not, but then it happened again. It was a loud “BAGOCK!” Instantly I knew what was happening, and I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty.