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As a writer, it's part of the job to know when you're about to lose your audience — or when your audience is about to lose themselves. So before you get too far into this, you need to make sure you don't need to be doing anything important. If you're driving, pull over. If you're supposed to be listening to someone talking, go no further. If you're trying to sneak-read this quickly before your boss walks by again, go ahead and just pin this to come back to later. You're about to look at a bunch of tiny puppies in Halloween costumes, so no there's no way you're going to be done with this any time soon. Don't start if you can't get lost in the Pupper Zone. You're welcome.

Blue Heron Farms is a small-scale, "thoughtful and humane" goat dairy located in Field Store, Texas. (That's near Houston. We looked it up.) They keep and breed Nubian goats, then use their milk to make cheeses, yogurt, and caramel. You can pick up their products at a few local farmers markets or coffee shops. The farm's operation may be small, but it has a rather large social media presence, in part due to adorable pictures of their animals.

Like their "baby goat of the day" posts:



Whoever manages the account has some brilliant stuff to say:



All of that was enough for us to click "follow" on their Twitter account, like, yesterday. But it gets better. Harriet, their foster dog, recently had puppies. To celebrate Halloween, the farm owners decided to make tiny costumes for the pups and tweet out pictures throughout the month.

Brace yourselves — it's even cuter than you think it is. Here are a few.










Even the goats got in on the Halloween fun!

Obviously, Twitter is in love.






If you're looking for an adorable way to waste a whole lot of time, feel free to check out their Twitter account.


H/T: Twitter, Blue Heron

Manipulation is designed to be stealthy. We hardly recognize it when it's happening to us because our abuser has forced it to appear under wraps.

But when we recognize it for what it really is, we really feel like we've been smacked across the face. There is no other descriptor for it. Usually we've trusted and loved those that manipulated us.

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Image by Anita S. from Pixabay

Just as new mothers encounter the sudden, influential developments of powerful hormone changes, protective instincts, and milk production, so new fathers undergo some key changes of their own.

Their socks become exclusively white, climbing higher up the calf than ever before. All their shorts sprout cargo pockets and clunky belt loop cell phone holders. They start to really lean in to their old records.

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Image by Patricia Srigley from Pixabay

Cleaning up is hard enough when it's just clearing a month of dust bunnies. Can you imagine cleaning the debris left by murder, suicide and violence? I have a really great friend who used to do crime scene clean-up for a living. The pay is incredible; it starts at $55 an hour. But there is a much higher cost in mental well being. Death affects you in ways you don't always feel immediately. My friend has stories of nightmares, depression and pain after leaving scenes of horror. Why make all that money just to spend it on therapy? It takes a certain type of person.

***TRIGGER WARNING. CONTENTS ARE SENSITIVE ***

Redditor u/MemegodDave wanted to hear from the people who have the stomach to come in after crime and tragedy

to try to bring back some form of normalcy to the location by asking... People who make their living out of cleaning murder scenes, accidents and the like, what is the worst thing you have experienced in your career?

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We all know the telltale signs that something is making us uncomfortable. Suddenly, we begin shaking, either in our hands or knees or toes. Then, usually, sweat starts pouring out of every part of our body, making it look like we just ran through a rainstorm underneath a waterfall. Finally, we lose our regular speech functions. Everything goes out of sync and our words don't match up to what's in our minds.

What's interesting is that what usually brings about these fits of uncomfortableness differs from person to person, as evidenced by the stories below.

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