This winter is never. going. to. end.

Sometimes you have good days, sometimes you have days where you have to pick up bloody chunks of pet chicken from your yard after a stoat-based massacre.

Sometimes you eat well, sometimes you have dinner followed by cookies followed by Butterfinger Blizzard followed by too much cheap-wine-in-bulk.

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(Drunkenly) deal with it.

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RIP My beautiful feathered friends.

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