I love it when a Monday starts off on a funny note. From all my experience with Mondays, they usually don’t work out that way. Unless you’re on vacation. Some people think I’m on permanent vacation. They may be right, but I still have a thing about Mondays. After all, It’s taken me three days to recover and post about.
This past Monday was the rare exception to the ‘Funky Monday’ frame of mind I’m usually in. Recluse Man had the day off!
I knew this dreamboat guy of mine would have loved sleeping in, but he was well aware of the pain I was dealing with. I jumped a ditch on a hiking trail last week and wrenched my back. It’s been frustrating to deal with in the middle of the summer, especially since I’m farm-sitting for the month of July. There are occasional chores that are too much for my bad back…like carrying 50 pound bags of chicken feed and moving heavy hay bales.
We hopped in Recluse Man’s big ole truck and headed down the road to the farm. By the way…RM always opens the truck door for me. Isn’t that dreamy? Long live chivalry!
I brought my camera to the farm just in case there was a good chicken shot to be had. I have become obsessed with photographing chickens lately. As it turned out, Monday was not a good day for shooting chickens. Not when Recluse Man was flexing his muscles.
But what does this have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing. Except that Recluse Man was with me when we returned to our farm, and I had my camera beside me. And I like to brag on my guy.
The pig with the wagging tail took off for the barn, which is off limits no matter what condition his complexion is in. I shouted at Recluse Man…”SHUT DA DOOR!” And just in time!
And then it occurred to me….did this mud bath have anything to do with my T shirt? My very own Animal Garden Shop T shirt that says … DO IT IN THE DIRT?
Can pigs read?Was it me who inspired him??? How ridiculous. This pig can’t see a piece of banana cream pie if it’s six inches away. He navigates mostly by smell. Did I smell extra bad? I had thrown on yesterday’s clothes but that’s that’s not unusual. Wait…back up. I didn’t mean ‘extra’ bad. It’s not like I smell bad to begin with. Please believe me.
Pigs love mud. I love mud.
I’ll never forget some hellacious mud fights at summer riding camp. After a hard rain, the rings would be too wet to ride in, but perfect for mud fights.
Someone would yell MUD FIGHT!!!!! YES! The grit…the nastiness…the primal screams….flinging hunks of slippery gunk… grinding the grossness in girlfriends hair…ahhhhh…how I love a good mud fight! GROSE-ME-OUT!!!
Sheesh…I haven’t said that in years. I need to calm down.
Back to pigs. Pigs need mud. It cools them down, especially when they don’t have shade. Did you know a pig only sweats through its nose? I didn’t…until I met the pigster. So that makes it kinda weird when you say…”So-and-So sweats like a pig.” Does that mean So-and-So is dripping puddles off his/her nose and nowhere else? Have you ever met anyone called So-and-So? Me neither.
Forget what I said about pigs needing mud. Ever since D.O.G. insisted on moving his house from the chicken coop down at the barn, to the covered deck outside our front door, the rules have changed. Clean D.O.G. house. No need for mud. Plenty of shade. Cool mountain breeze. Fresh blankets. And with a clean piggy, there won’t be any telltale signs of a little indoor nap when Recluse Man gets home. Besides, I don’t do muddy piggy belly rubs.