DH and I are in the middle of a huge alumni event for the school and camp. A couple hundred people and their children are here. Every bed, tent, and leanto is filled. His attendance as headmaster and host is required from 8 AM until 10 PM.
I have only been attending the cocktail parties, dinners, and evening activities, but even squeezing this limited participation into my schedule has been challenging.
Today I misjudged my timing and partway through milking realized I hadn’t left enough time to get home, shower, and change before the social obligations began. Hurriedly I stopped milking and put Katika back in her stall. I would come back and finish chores between supper and the evening activity, I decided.
Everything went fine. I was showered and presentable (if slightly damp-haired) at cocktails and dinner. However the meal ran late, squeezing the minutes before the big square dance.
No problem, I thought. To save time, instead of changing back into dirty barn gear, I zipped up my fall coveralls over my nice clothes, kicked off my flats and stamped into my boots. It was 80° and sweltering in long sleeves but no matter. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even put on my baseball cap. I raced down to the farm.
Unfortunately I hadn’t stopped to consider that cows respond to any disruption in routine with gastro-intestinal distress. When I put her in her stanchion I found Katika was now dripping with grassy-green diarrhea. Yech! I have a low squeamish factor but even I was taken aback.
Oh well. What can’t be cured must be endured. She needed milking and besides, I was safely covered in blue Dickies coveralls from neck to toe. I pulled up the pig bucket, sat down at her flank, and began to milk.
Whap! Katika swung her long tail at flies. Her long tail, dripping with liquid feces. The tail hit the back of my (formerly) clean hair, wrapped around my ear, and slapped me wetly across the face. My glasses were instantly smeared and useless. I could feel manure dripping across my cheeks and down my neck.
Argh! Slowly I finished milking. I turned the animals out, fed the pigs, shut up the geese. And then I drove home to our apartment and spent twenty minutes scrubbing my face and neck, cleaning my glasses, and washing out my hair.
My time-saving coveralls were still pristine.