Harvest Moon Update

It's three a.m. so naturally I must fill you in on Harvest Moon. Why do I like it so much, you ask? For starters, my Harvest Moon me never has insomnia and isn't totally whipped by her animal friends. I'm up tonight because my clever little pooch has discovered that once my hubby comes to bed, a veritable feast in crumbs is waiting for her on the family room couch where my husband was parked eating snacks before bedtime. He's a night owl so this happens at well, three a.m. And since my dog long since abandoned the crate in favor of sleeping with us, her night time scavenging wakes me up. My Harvest Moon me would have sold her by now. Just like BooBoo the calf. She was cute and all but she fetched me $2,500 at market. And in Harvest Moon, I have a two-headed talking plant that eats fruit and spits up hybrid seeds. Mix a tomato and a watermelon? No problem. There are even recipes involving these hybrid creations. In real life, I have a two-headed cat (actually I have two cats) and it eats two things like rubber bands and houseplants and spits up too. But there are no recipes involving her creations. Don't even get me started comparing my Harvest Moon offspring to my little Girlie. Squirt waters the crops and he was just born like forty Harvest Moon days ago. I also have Harvest Moon friends. In Harvest Moon, you can shamelessly court friendship with a lonely old man hoping that he'll leave you his bonsai plants when he dies (his wife died last Harvest Moon year and he's got major depression). He's already coughed up a new fishing pole in exchange for pickles made out of turnips. My real life friends have never given me a fishing pole. In Harvest Moon, there are no parents or parents-in-law and the water heater never floods your house. I should wrap up by saying that real life is more fulfilling, blah, blah, blah, but it's three a.m. and I can't sleep. I'm too grouchy to be reflective.