Don’t get me wrong, moving to the country and living on a working farm is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, but there continues to be a learning curve. Here are my recent observations:
No matter how hard I try to keep only one pair of “shit shoes”, I ultimately end up wearing my good running shoes to move the broiler chicken’s rolling coop. My job is to make sure the chickens don’t get run over as the coop moves forward, so I literally walk a full ten yards in yesterday’s excrement, making my good running shoes not so great. They then get added to my pile of shit shoes.
I continue to voraciously shop online at Hautelook and Ruelala. I buy beautiful dresses and fashionable shoes to add to the other beautiful dresses and fashionable shoes that fill my closet. Problem is, I wear grubby workout capri spandex, a stained wife-beater and shit shoes most days.
There is no day off for farmers. Even if we decide to forgo projects, there remains at least three hours of animal and crop care seven days a week. Yes, that includes walking ten yards across a poop filled minefield in my shit shoes every damn day.
I’ve always been a big fan of simple white towels. No matter how carefully Steve showers, his freshly washed white towel is filthy with grease and grime when he leaves the bathroom.
I am recognizing a pattern; if it is decent weather we can’t possibly take the time to go do something fun outdoors, but when it is raining, we can’t go do anything fun outdoors either. I have made it a mission to pry Steve away from the “to do” list at least three times a week to play tennis. I try very hard to not wear shit shoes on the courts.
I spend my day touching some pretty gross stuff. I now wash my hands BEFORE and after using the bathroom.
After working on building my own fence I have become quite the snob. Seriously, some people just don’t know how to construct proper corners.
As much as I have tried to retain some of my city girl ways (see my online shopping addiction above), I have evidence that it is slipping away at an alarming rate. I heard myself complaining loudly at the local department store about their lack of flannel shirt options…. I headed over to Tractor Supply and felt a twinge of excitement when I walked through the doors….left with 3 bitchin flannels.
So today is another day. I sit here wearing yesterday’s stained wife-beater, capri leggings and flannel shirt. I can hear the birds chirping and the wind blowing through the trees. In the distance I can hear the neighbors tractor and I can smell the field he is cutting. The sun is coming up and it promises to be a beautiful day. I honestly can’t wait to slip on my shit shoes and go outside.