Sunday night, D and I did chores for my brother-in-law. I don't mind spending a night in the barn. But Sunday was just a Jonah night. It went something like this:
6:00 p.m. Walk into office, don sexy black latex gloves. Turn to find squished kitten on floor. Am no longer teary-eyed-horrified-by-dead-kittens; adopt grim-faced-that's-a-pity-let's-get-rid-of-it look, take Mr. Squishie outside to begin peaceful decomposition under pine tree.
6:08 p.m. Inadvertantly scare two cows while husband tries to tie them up in stalls. Oops.
6:10 p.m. Survey assortment of shovels.
D: Are you wearing C's good hat?
Me: Does he have a good hat?
D: He's gonna be wild.
Me: It was in with all the barn clothes! It's got poo stains on it!
D: I'm telling.
6:12 p.m. Begin shovelling crap off the walkway.
D: Is that the shovel we use to push the feed?
Me: I dunno.
D: Well, maybe don't use the shovel we use to push the feed to scrape up shit.
Me: It already has shit on it. Maybe you should label your shovels.
6:13 p.m. Husband flings wet poop at me with aforementioned shovel. Cursing match ensues.
6:18 p.m. Attempt to start milking. Realize cannot bend over in coveralls without risking serious loss to blood circulation. Have coveralls shrunk again???
6:30 p.m. Cow licks entire head. Am covered in clow slobber. Wish had not taken off brother-in-law's hat.
7:15 p.m. Prepare to help D and father-in-law switch cows out of stalls. Attempt to round up rowdy seven-week-old kittens to prevent death by trampling. Kittens do not cooperate. Hit head on barn door trying to wrestle ginger kitten from hiding place.
7:27 p.m. Want desperately to lay down somewhere quiet and cow-free.
7:28 p.m. D walks by. Has squirming ginger kitten in coverall pocket for safekeeping. Immediately forgive earlier manure-slinging incident.