S Is For...

Sauna.  The latch burns my fingers before I open the door, and I know what's coming.  Setting the empty buckets down, I go from stall to stall, releasing the inmates, bringing one girl into the small, overheated room.  Even before taking my place next to my warm companion on the stand, my face is covered with a damp film.  My heavy denim bibbies hold the heat on my legs as if I were covered in blankets.  Working as quickly as I can to get this girl milked and out again, sweat begins to pour from my face, pooling in my glasses and dripping from my nose...it runs in rivulets down my spine.  Oh!  I straighten to catch an errant puff of breeze that wafts through the barn on this still day.  I'm on the far side of the goat, so she catches and blocks most of it.  Doggedly, I work my way through one goat after the other...three down, three to go.  When Esther comes in for her breakfast, I grab the baby's bottles and race around to the nursery and let him chug down his milk.  Two to go.  This time in purgatory seems to last forever.  In reality, on a good day I can finish all the barn chores in less than an hour and a half.  The last goat needs coaxing to come in, and I can't blame her.  Standing in the blazing sun, "Come on, Sheila...come on in and let's get this over with.  Please, Sheila.  Pleeeease, Sheila!  Sheila, get your stupid butt in this barn right this instant!  Please, Sheila."  She finally takes that first step over the threshold, I get her milked out, and we're home free.  I get the nighttime snacks ready, put out water and "cereal" for Twenty-Two, and start the trek back up to the house, soaking wet and lugging two full milk buckets.  The Queen of England could be pulling up the drive, and it wouldn't be enough to make me get up from my chair under the ceiling fan when I get to the house at last.  It's my own fault...enjoying my visitor's company, I let myself get way behind Schedule.  Opportunity costs sometime come with a penalty...it's called a Sauna.