Let me leave you with a little bit of humorous wisdom from Anne of Avonlea.
"That night John Henry Carter and Davy between them contrived to execute the two white roosters, and Anne dressed them, the usually distasteful task quite glorified in her eyes by the destination of the plump birds.
"I don't like picking fowls," she told Marilla, "but isn't it fortunate we don't have to put our souls into what our hands may be doing? I've been picking chickens with my hands but in imagination I've been roaming the Milky Way."**
"I thought you'd scattered more feathers over the floor than usual," remarked Marilla."
Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery, Page 138.
**Laugh here
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