The Egg and I (32 page)

The storm continued, the candles blew out, the stove remained lukewarm but I didn't even notice. I coasted around the house propelled by visions of linoleum floors, bathtubs, electric stoves and flushing toilets. It seemed to me that from now on life was going to be pure joy. After dinner we sat at the kitchen table and by the light of the sputtering candles figured assets and liabilities. At least Bob did. I was busy figuring how many hours a day I would save by having modern conveniences. I said to Bob, "I suppose that with lights in the chicken houses and running water and things we wouldn't have to get up until about seven or half past." Bob was busy figuring. He said, "Huh?" I repeated, "I imagine that with lights and running water in the chicken houses we wouldn't have to get up until about seven or half past."

"Oh, that won't make any difference," Bob said. "Chickens have to be fed anyway and the earlier you feed 'em the sooner they start to lay." Which just goes to show that a man in the chicken business is not his own boss at all. The hen is the boss.

THE END