I looked around yesterday at all that needs doing here. That's it. I just looked. Time in the barn was shortened because Inga and Esther opted not to come in and I was disinclined to do more than perfunctory coaxing. I did have to resettle the milking stand. Usually, it is quite apparent from the tilt that the underground workers burrowed under one of the legs; this time the whole darned stand had dropped four inches. I quickly figured this out when I realized I was almost sitting on the ground and my knees were up under my chin.
Unlike the legs on those skinny, ultra-tight, shrink-wrap jeans that seem to be in vogue now, the legs on bibbies are full and loose. I'll take comfort over style any day; however, it seems they leave one vulnerable to a sneak attack. As my back was turned, bending over weeding, a mosquito flew up the pants leg and bit me on, how to put this delicately, on my sit-down, my bum, my (as Forrest Gump would say) butt-ock. For someone allergic to mosquito bites, this is not prime territory for an attack; certainly not an itch one could scratch in public.
As if that weren't enough to make me feel like a hick, reaching into my pocket to pay for a haircut, the bills came out with a handful of alfalfa bits sprinkled all over the counter. Good grief. No wonder I seldom leave home.
Having taken a full day for R&R, I'll have to do more than just look today.