Meat Day

I hate Meat Day.

As you already know, this summer, we are sub-letting a place in Palo Alto while Reed does his internship.

The people who live here belong to several community agriculture groups, and while they're gone, we are in charge of receiving drop-offs, and distributing to the various members. We don't take it around (thank HEAVENS) -- the members come pick it up.

Veggie days and fruit days (each once a week) aren't too bad. I have to take out, and fold up and take in, tons of boxes from the garage, and buckets and checklists, but I don't have to be at home. I just leave the stuff out during the day.

Meat days are different.

Meat Days....are awful.

The first Tuesday of every month, we get a meat delivery -- literally hundreds of pounds of meat. And I'm talkin' funky meat, like ground goat.

The meat man is always late, which means that for about an hour, I have to answer the door every five minutes and explain to people that their meat is not here yet.

Then the meat man finally comes.

Then, I have to call everyone who came earlier, and arrange a time that they can come pick up their meat.

Hold on...the doorbell just rang...I have to go dig someone's meat out of the freezer. brb.

Okay back.

Meat Day also means that Reed and I have to start the day by finding the cats in the garage and moving them to the upstairs bathroom where they can't get outside. (The meat man has to open the garage door). The cat thing is a difficult process.

It also means that I can't leave the house all day.

Plus, the garage door is broken, so I had to push it up manually, and then hold it up while the meat man put the meat into the freezer in the garage.

All this for ground goat???

I HATE Meat Day.