Perhaps only superseded by my refusal to apologize for it.
Approximately three times each day I throw a silent tantrum because I live in a loud, dirty, cramped city instead of in New Paltz, NY where I obviously belong.
This Cape Cod-inspired coop even has a name—Chez Poulet. I generally find named homes tacky, but it turns out that chicken coops are an exception to my rule. See how you learn something new about yourself every day?!
How many hours could you spend staring at this fire pit? Several hundred, right?