Sometimes I find myself in situations, and I laugh thinking to myself about what kind of stories would be made up to explain what may have happened to me. Honestly yall, only believe about half my obituary when the time comes. Tonight was one of those nights. I walk out to the barn tonight to milk. Ive got my ratty pjs on, crazy chicken lady mud boots, hair in a messy ponytail...lookin all kinds of fine. Yall know I like to keep it classy. Ive got Ruby at my side, a sterilized milk bucket in one hand, a bucket of clean, warm, milk rags in another, and Im covered in stickers and sensors from this silly heart monitor thingy Im sporting for the next day or so. Well, between the elastic being shot in my britches, and the weight of the monitor clipped on the waistband, I get about halfway to the barn and feel my pants start to head south. Fantastic. I cant really lay either bucket down because I need to keep them clean. I look down at Ru and wonder exactly what command I could give her that would communicate be a dear and help me cover up my big white behind? I realize shes probably not going to be much help, so I decide to try to hold one bucket handle between my teeth while I pull my wayward britches up. It worked. For about 3 more steps. And this time my pants were falling with gusto. I figure my best bet at this point is just to try to sashay as fast as I can to the barn, and pray that my kids and/or neighbors dont look out to catch the full moon. Im trucking it as fast as I can waddle with my thighs together and my calves as far apart as I can manage (are yall picturing this??), trying to keep my pants as high and out of the mud as I can, thinking that this is about as awkward as it can get. I was wrong. Now the stupid heart monitor contraption has come unclipped from my (now knee-high) waistband, and is flying like a tether ball around my lower legs on the end of the cords that are attached to my chesticle area, with adhesive that Im fairly certain they could use to keep a space shuttle glued together. This is some crap. About the 2nd wrap around my legs, Id just about managed to flank and hog tie my own dang self in the middle of my backyard. I decide something has got to give, so I put the bucket handle back in my teeth, get myself untied, & get my nether regions covered back up. Take a deep breath and keep on towards the barn. Its about this time that I hear Chuck walk out of the house. Here, Baby, let me help you with one of those buckets. Gee. Thanks. My hero.
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 05:20:07 +0000
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