A day for lifting heavy things

After I’d returned from town yesterday afternoon I had a flurry of things that needed to be done quickly lest Uncle Murphy spank. Locally the weather was absolutely beautiful.100_4321Rather than hide under the cabin as is his usual practice on a hot summer afternoon*, LB was enjoying the dappled shade of the juniper grove. But he was also keeping a close eye on the Jeep. Though he may not be the sharpest knife in the rack, he does know the signs of an impending Jeep ride and was determined not to let me forget he was there for me if I needed him.

I emptied the feed sacks into the barrel, moved the propane and gasoline into their respective places, filled the five-gallon jug I use for bringing water to Landlady’s chickens, and got ready for a very dusty chore…100_4322
She’s got ten chickens in a house that used to be a carport. They have access to a nice enclosed yard, but usually seem to prefer staying inside. This makes for an enclosure that can smell strongly of chicken shit if you don’t keep up with the situation – which, purely for financial reasons, I really haven’t lately. The old straw breaks down under constant scratching, so raking it out before you replace it is as filthy a job as it is strenuous. But hey! Food.

Anyway, I was in a hurry to get all this done because Uncle Murphy had raised his hammer and the clock was ticking…100_4323Overhead the sky was a beautiful calm blue but there were thunderheads in nearly every direction. It didn’t matter which way the wind blew, we seemed destined to get violently wet.

Then, very shortly after I got everything squared away, all the clouds dissipated like a mirage. Monsoon – you can’t win.

Fortunately, with Ian gone on his epic journey his shower was available. Nothing like sweat under a nice thick coating of powdered chicken shit to make even the least hygienic of us think in terms of hot showers.


*You haven’t lived until you’ve seen that coal-black monster erupt from his black hole when he detects something that needs chasing. Little Bear can be a big happy goofy oaf, and he can also be like unto something out of Tolkien. I pity the fool that comes sniffing around the cabin when I’m not there but LB is.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
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2 Responses to A day for lifting heavy things

  1. Ben says:

    I know you probably get more comments from your political posts, but I love these “day in my life” blurbs you do.

  2. Joel says:

    Thanks, Ben! I really never know which posts people are gonna comment on, so I just roll with it.

To the stake with the heretic!