It’s Sunday evening and church has started. So what am I doing writing you ask? Why am I not in a pew listening and worshiping? I’ve managed to get myself sick.
Skipped church? Woe is me!
Honestly, I’ve been fighting a cold back for the last couple of days and this morning I woke up coughing my lungs across the room. “Pot Pie! Put my lung down! Here boy… here boy!
This day has been one to remember… hack… hack, hack.
Packing lung particles into a fanny pack, I moped off mid-morning to help herd a trailer full of bulls into catch pens. They must be in Ocala today for the sale this week. My wife and Brit would soon head down highway 301 toward the sale, leaving me tending the old ranch solo-style… hack… hack, hack.
Just about the time we said our goodbyes and I headed back to the house to die on the couch, this trailer full of bulls went berserk! If you think one little squirrel made a major commotion in a church one Sunday morning, imagine twenty-thousand pounds of beef wrecking havoc on an aluminum stock trailer!
Did I mention the rain began to fall? Double hack… hack, hack. Risking electrocution, I broke out every power tool available and began attempting to rebuild a trailer… full of bulls. That made them even happier!
Anyway, I just received the phone call from Ocala… my wife, Brit, and a trailer full of angry Black Angus bulls (with one polled Hereford) arrived safely at the sale. Pray someone buys these beasts! If not, the whole saga starts all over again.