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Barbed Wire and Gym Shorts Don’t Mix

I rolled out of bed this morning, still in my sleepwear, eyes only open in tiny enough slits to function, and headed down to check on my girl Delilah and her calf Stanley Zbornak. I gave Delilah some sweet feed because she’s adorable and she deserves it, and went on out of the barn to check the water tank. On first look I notice it’s a little low, so I go grab the hose. Upon further inspection I notice a big clump of grass and ugh, yuck, a dead bird. Gotta dump the tank out. Hmmm… I could walk all the way to the barn (you know, like 7 feet out of the way) and go through the gate… orrrr I can just squeeze though the barbed wire fence and not have to drag my half awake body any farther than necessary. Through the fence it is. Very carefully in my t-shirt, mesh gym shorts, and flip-flops, I contort myself through the barbed wire perfectly. Stanley helped me dump the tank out, and back through the fence I go. Hold breath, suck it in, right hand holds up middle strand, left hand holds down bottom strand, here I go…

Oh dear…

I get halfway though and the bottom of my left shorts leg gets stuck on a barb. Okay, I can’t let go of the bottom strand or I’m going to get a barb in an unfortunate location, so I squat down a little farther and let go of the top strand.

Eeeek!

There is now a barb touching my rump roast, but not quite grabbing, and my pants are still stuck.

Craaaaaap.

Don’t panic. Stay calm. Move slowly and carefully with deliberate movements…

I somehow, most certainly with the grace and elegance of a ballerina, manage to untangle the hem of my shorts and half slide/half fall to the other side of the fence without any blood or showing off any dairy-air. It’s safe to say my eyes are now open and I’m fully ready to start my day.

Now, normally when things like this happen to me there’s an audience. But, it’s 6:50am, and as I get up wiping the wet grass off of myself, I’m thinking I got away with it. The only evidence of this 47 second fence attack is a little catch in the hem of my shorts.

VICTORY!

Until I look across the lot and see ScubaSteve is at the shop working on the combine.

Dang itttttt.

I’m not sure if he witnessed my little mishap or not. I’m hoping not. Making fun of me is easy, I don’t need to hand him any more ammunition on a silver platter.

Happy Hump Day, Y’all! I hope your day started off a little less eventful than mine!

Here’s a cute picture of Delilah, just because.

delss

Speaking of dairy-air’s, June is Dairy Month! Support our dairy farmers by eating ice cream for dinner! It’s the right thing to do.

Laney-Grace

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2 thoughts on “Barbed Wire and Gym Shorts Don’t Mix”

  1. You just never know who’s watching – even though we are out in the “boonies”. I occasionally fill up my bird feeders in my PJ’s; without fail, that is when my neighbour comes by for her early morning walk with her dog. Glad there was no damage to your person!

    Like

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