The polar opposite of rush hour in Central VT: I am driving on a back road to my abode, when, lo and behold, I see two elementary-aged children in the middle of the road. I politely wait for the children to move to the side of the road. To the left of me is a cow pasture filled with, you guessed it, cows.

Then I notice that there is an electric fence stretched across the road, and that the two children are squabbling, and that the little boy on his bike is wearing a space helmet. Meanwhile, a woman is attempting to convince the cows in the pasture to cross the road to the equally pleasant pasture on the other side. She is hollering at the kids and yelling at the cows, and no one is paying any attention to her. Except me, where I sit waiting patiently, mildly amused.

The little girl, in a pink ruffled shirt, stands guard before me like a sentry at a military outpost. “None shall pass.” The boy states the obvious: “we are moving the cows.” Except . . . the cows are not moving. The woman begins swearing at the cows and at pretty much everything around her: “WTF!?” she wails.