This article is for mature readers only (those wishing to stay out of trouble). The writer accepts no responsibility should the explicit details described herein corrupt the minds of anyone over the age of 50 years, farmers or not.
Toward spring, after about six months of winter, one’s thoughts may turn to things of a more exciting nature. Of course, I have always controlled these urges. However, that other brother Daryl of mine, the old crank, usually manages to get me into more trouble than you can shake a stick at.
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For instance, the other morning jest to stir things up, he’s gotta mention to the wife, in passin, that maybe we should throw out some of the junk around here.
He never should have done that. You see, she’s sortta one of them hoarders who hasn’t thrown anything out in 20 years or so. Now everything is antique.
By nature, I am a neat, tidy person. This can be proven by the fact that although I keep everything else, I have thrown quite a few wrenches away over the years. Can you imagine her claim that I simply lost them? (Sometimes it’s phrased that I’m simple an lost them.)
Anyway, to get back on track, I knew right away when he made that comment that things were gonna heat up around here. So, I’m trying to sneak out of house when she hits me with the double whammy.
According to her, guess who’s right at the top of the junk list? If it goes, I go. Also, I’m halfway across the yard when she yells that I was mislabelled when she met me. Seems I should have had a stamp sayin “reject” on my forehead.
With all the reworking that’s been done, apparently I’m still not perfect.
Accusations that my mind is starting to wander do not help. I have been known to suggest that if that was the case, I wish my mind would take my body with it. We could both have a well-needed holiday.
Brother Daryl should never have mentioned that, like the fairy tale, he’s jest like an old toad waitin fer a pretty lady to kiss him an turn him into a handsome prince.
She said it didn’t work.
