If you are tempted to stop by, please abide the following until at least noon every day until Spring thaw is complete:

You will not get in my driveway without 4WD.  You will slide out.
There is no safe way to open the gate by the house, just hang on and slide around with it.  Park your vehicle on exposed gravel so it doesn’t follow you through.
Think of every plowed spot on the acres as a skating rink and adjust your gait accordingly. If it’s shiny, it’s not my fault you busted your ass.  If we are friends, you know better.
There are no safe entrances to the house or barn, enter at your own risk.  NO. SAFE. ENTRANCES.
If you go in barn and tell anyone what you saw, we are through.  The real kind of through.  The stalls are clean and dry, so fuck you.
If you get in the house safely, hold your comments on the dog hair, cat hair, horse shit, salt, wood chips and winter clothing strewn about.  I’m not cleaning up until it’s over now.  Don’t judge unless you want to take a shift.
The smell in the house?  Cigarettes, restless dogs and depression.  Don’t judge unless you want to take Watson for a hike in ten inches of snow through an untouched pasture.  It really sounds a lot nicer than it will be.

The Management,

Sweet Jesus When Will It End My Ass Can’t Take It Acres.