Yogi Berra said it best, "It's like deja vu all over again." The morning was going so well. Fresh from the shower, a clean set of bibbies and shirt, cool enough for a jacket but not cold; I was ready to face the day. Chickens (and turkeys) fed, I headed to the goat barn. Inga went right into the milking room and, for a change, was easy to empty. She gave well over a half-gallon and I was ahead of the game! Poppy led the way out when it was her turn and I brought Sheila around. Grain in her bowl and her coat brushed, I put the bucket under Sheila and sat down. I was just reaching for the teats when she (wait for it) put her foot in the bucket again. For the second time in as many weeks, she sent milk flying. This time her aim was better and I got drenched. Pants and jacket were thoroughly soaked. A warm milk bath might sound pleasant. It's not. Warm milk quickly turns cold and sitting in icy, sticky britches while milking out a goat is not my idea of a great way to spend time. The quilted flannel jacket had to come off immediately. Like it or not, and I did not, I still had Sheila and Tessie to milk, Esther and Cindy to feed, and the stalls to clean. Wet pants flapping against my legs, I tended to chores and headed back to the house for another shower and clean, dry clothes.
I might enjoy watching the same movies over and over, but yesterday's scene is not one I'd like to see rerun again.