Counting Sheep

Question:

A farmer has 20 sheep.
All but 7 perish in a tsunami.
How many remain?
Tick tock tick tock grains of sand are falling.
Time's up!
Answer?

Enough for a decent barbecue.
You bring the briquettes and I, as always, will bring the mesquite.

I just walked around Chapters for half an hour, waiting for some book to entice me.
But then she went on break, so I just bought whatever was at arm's length.
This was the fortunate selection:

The shittiest job I ever had?
Working at Kentville Publishing which was, not that it matters, located in New Minas.
This is what New Minas looks like according to God:
We had to collate.
If you're like me, you act like you know what collating means because you've heard it so many times.
But you don't really know.
It's stuffing fliers into newspapers.
It doesn't deserve its own term.
One day a group of us were collating.
We had some people there on their first shift.
The place had what you might call turnover issues.
And I'm watching this guy standing across from me.
Because no one is saying anything, and he's clearly getting antsy.
"Is this collating?" He was likely thinking to himself.
Suddenly he goes, "Pff, fuck this!" He punches out his time card, and leaves.
It was beautiful.
Which was nice.
Because there aren't many opportunities for beauty in New Minas.

Why is it that some songs just make more sense when you're stoned?
Are you stoned right now?
All of us can tell.