A Bull Story
Last Friday was not my husband’s day. Poor feller. For one thing the temps were near zero, and doing chores in that kind of weather is a real drag. Then it started to snow on him while he was out choring, which makes it that much more annoying. He had to take bales of hay to all three pastures up the road, I believe. When he was in the bull pasture, which is about ¾ of a mile up the road, the dreaded thing happened; the tractor ran out of gas. Now, mind you, he HAD checked it and thought he had enough. But the only way to check is to stand up at the seat, lean over the steering wheel and peer into the tank. Doing this while snow is blowing around you and you are swaddled in several layers of clothing with the wind whipping your scarf around is no small feat. So he miscalculated. Well, the bull pasture is right in front of his granddad’s place, so he made tracks over there to borrow some gas (this itself turned into an ordeal, but we will skip that part) and by the time he got back with...