Lew Zealand
Helper
Previously on "I regret choosing this Farm layout:"
We found our Farmer Bobbi deciding that the Hilltop Farm exists only to annoy. Naturally she then contracted with a cut rate Farmland reformulation service which resulted in a hideous, mangled, unlivable hybrid Farm which so offended the sensibilities of her wife Abigail that abnormal amounts of effort were expended in returning it to its merely obnoxious previous appearance.
Functional but offensive. And not broken! However the die has been cast and after many seasons of finding other rather funner things to do, the pressures of being married to Abigail have mounted and...
It is time. The Farm was harvested and unnecessary adornment (as pitifully small as it was) was removed:
Unusually, Abigail spends almost every morning during the preparations outside, feeding the Animals and perhaps taking time to say goodbye to the Farm that initially welcomed her, but ultimately ended up being an unwelcome sight.
A true professional was brought in to survey the lands and offer advice on how to arrange the buildings.
"Uhm, just stick them all over here. Maybe some over there." "I don't care if that looks ugly, if you put everything there, half of it will end up feeding the Fish!" "...hey, so how're you gonna handle the geology changes here?"
"What? Fine, be that way don't tell me. I remember what happened last time, you just give me a warning to be in the basement when it happens!"
After finally following Robin's advice, the nascent Farm ended up thusly:
OK
Let's do it right this time.
Late at night with the kids (!) already in bed, Abigail and Bobbi huddle around the Spirit Board, David Jr. looking on it anticipation, sensing the tension. The candles, having burned all day and well into the evening, are guttering at the very ends of their overlong wicks, casting fluttering shadows upon the Monster Fireplace and Grave Markers. Sitting down opposite each other, Abby glances up and flicks Bobbi's hat off her head with an impish smile. Both place their hands on the smooth stone, hands intertwined, perhaps a bit sweaty and clammier than the very first time they touched. Slowly they move and a humming envelops the house, voices emanating faintly at first but growing stronger. Bobbi hears "control" and glances at Abby, not knowing what it's all about, but they both chant it anyway. Go with the flow! As their hands move about the board, random numbers flash in and out of the corners of their eyes but they barely acknowledge them with the low, flickering candlelight distracting their consciousness. Eyes now barely open, they feel the building energy, and a faint, distant rumbling is first heard... then felt. Now grasping each other's hands in earnest, the rumbling reaches a crescendo, knocking both of them out, flat on their backs on opposite sides of what's left of the board.
The following morning they awake, rubbing their heads and peer out the windows:
It is done. A new life on a new Farm.
We found our Farmer Bobbi deciding that the Hilltop Farm exists only to annoy. Naturally she then contracted with a cut rate Farmland reformulation service which resulted in a hideous, mangled, unlivable hybrid Farm which so offended the sensibilities of her wife Abigail that abnormal amounts of effort were expended in returning it to its merely obnoxious previous appearance.
Functional but offensive. And not broken! However the die has been cast and after many seasons of finding other rather funner things to do, the pressures of being married to Abigail have mounted and...
It is time. The Farm was harvested and unnecessary adornment (as pitifully small as it was) was removed:
Unusually, Abigail spends almost every morning during the preparations outside, feeding the Animals and perhaps taking time to say goodbye to the Farm that initially welcomed her, but ultimately ended up being an unwelcome sight.
A true professional was brought in to survey the lands and offer advice on how to arrange the buildings.
After finally following Robin's advice, the nascent Farm ended up thusly:
OK
Let's do it right this time.
Late at night with the kids (!) already in bed, Abigail and Bobbi huddle around the Spirit Board, David Jr. looking on it anticipation, sensing the tension. The candles, having burned all day and well into the evening, are guttering at the very ends of their overlong wicks, casting fluttering shadows upon the Monster Fireplace and Grave Markers. Sitting down opposite each other, Abby glances up and flicks Bobbi's hat off her head with an impish smile. Both place their hands on the smooth stone, hands intertwined, perhaps a bit sweaty and clammier than the very first time they touched. Slowly they move and a humming envelops the house, voices emanating faintly at first but growing stronger. Bobbi hears "control" and glances at Abby, not knowing what it's all about, but they both chant it anyway. Go with the flow! As their hands move about the board, random numbers flash in and out of the corners of their eyes but they barely acknowledge them with the low, flickering candlelight distracting their consciousness. Eyes now barely open, they feel the building energy, and a faint, distant rumbling is first heard... then felt. Now grasping each other's hands in earnest, the rumbling reaches a crescendo, knocking both of them out, flat on their backs on opposite sides of what's left of the board.
The following morning they awake, rubbing their heads and peer out the windows:
It is done. A new life on a new Farm.
P.S. As the self appointed priestess of cult Abigail currently (seeing as everyone else have gone onto less purple things) I must say I am exceedingly and monstrously appreciating that this is Abby-centric. Would you consider doing a complete 
capabilities . Waaaaay more are needed.