SwampMan was home when I got in tonight. He was sitting in his easy chair reading. I sat down with a groan and put my feet up. My lower back has been quite sore since I lifted some things that were really too heavy for me a few weeks ago. I did not move for about 30 minutes. Concerned, SwampMan spoke about the matter closest to his heart. “Hey, what’s for dinner?”
I forced my eyelids open. I’d been running around from class to class on the school campus, which is huge, all day. I’d been up three times during the night with flashlight and shotgun to try to kill the damn coyotes that had been digging under the fence and killing ducks and chickens. Lambing time is very close. Puppy had barked all night long, so very little sleep for me. I still had a couple hours of feeding to do before I could even think about food for us. “Whatever you want to cook or pick up is what is for dinner tonight. I’m done.”
“Does that mean you’re going to go get something?” SwampMan asked hopefully.
“You mean I have to go?” SwampMan said incredulously, hoping to guilt me into volunteering to run fetch sumpin’.
“You mean I have to put clothes back on?”
I lifted an eyebrow and stared at him. The middle school boys have told me that they HATE when I look at them like that. That Look is usually followed by a facepalm on my part.
“FINE. I’ll put my clothes on, then.”
After feeding, I ended up riding into town with SwampMan. He wanted to know what I wanted to eat, but I told him truthfully that I was so tired I didn’t really feel like eating anything. I’d just drink some coffee and go to sleep. G’night, y’all.