you're playing the world's saddest song on the world's smallest violin

That's what the union's lawyer says, whenever we have a great sob story that we can't back up with provable facts, or legal precedents.

But I've got the idea that I will create the world's happiest song, on the world's smallest farm.

It starts with this:

I will adopt some pot-bellied pigs


And then some pygmy goats (some jurisdictions in the states are fighting to have them considered housepets, apparently they're an ecologically sound way to maintain your lawn).

And recruit some Shelties to herd them
And some Cornish Game Hens to fulfill my bird love
And there we are, a miniature farm.

My friend D. says, "Erinn, you don't have to build the world's smallest farm just to make yourself feel tall."

That's true. I would feel tall just because I was living in the service of animals. But I promise that I will not ride such a small beast as this
Because I am a full-sized human, and that would be cruel.

In particular, I hope that this is amusing to M., who has always found miniatures to be interesting.

I am going to sleep, to dream of running a worker co-op bakery, and running a tiny farm out in the middle of nowhere.