I fished for so long today that my fishing rod wore out. I guess I’ll have to kill another spider soon, since I haven’t found any other rope-like substances in the area.
I pulled up another pair of boots.
Maybe I’m fishing over an old abandoned shoe store.
I also dug up some sand to use to make glass. My cave is nice as caves go, the bed doesn’t stink nearly as much as it did, but even with all the torches I’ve lit it’s kind of gloomy.
It’s also hard to tell when the neighbors have stopped by to murder you if you can’t see out the windows. LOOKING AT YOU, CORGI-GIRAFFE-BOMB CREATURE.
I fed my cows, and they immediately produced a baby cow. I fed my chickens and they produced a baby chicken. Somehow on this planet, the native life got the idea that “hungry” and “horny” are the same thing.
I have to wonder what kind of external environmental pressures had to be on creatures to cause them to use any extra calories they receive to immediately spawn and develop and birth a baby creature.
I’m guessing it’s because it was the only way they could breed fast enough to survive the giraffe-bombs.