WARNING: If you read my blog for crafty goodness, cute mini donkey tales and photos and/or inspiration, this is not your post. This is a FARM post of a most indelicate nature...you have been warned...proceed with caution.
There are few things more indispensable to the farmer than a 5 gallon bucket. The bucket is to the farmer what a scalpel is to the surgeon, what a pen is to a writer, or maybe better, what a paperclip is to McGyver. Not a day goes by, not one, that the farmer does not use a bucket for at least 10 different things...a waterer for calves, a tool box for fencing supplies, a feed trough for a donkey, a seat for sitting at just the right height for truck repairs, a nail holder...it is truly a miracle of invention. It would not be an overstatement to say that I do not believe the farmer could perform his job without the bucket. "My" farmer is very possessive of his buckets too. Occasionally I "borrow" one for my own personal use, which can sometimes throw the farmer into a snit if it is not returned to the proper bucket corral, in pristine condition.
Yesterday, we headed north "up the country" to the little place we bought and are building the barn/living space, to work on the window and door trim. We have had several people up there working including a painter. "Up the country" is back off the path" a good distance....we are miles from anywhere. With all the work that is being done in this extremely small living space, we walked into a mess...paint cans everywhere, electrical wire strewn all over the floor, boxes, nails, drywall, ladders, and misc. supplies thrown around like a goat had exploded inside the tiny space. The first words out of the farmer's mouth however were "Where is my bucket, that painter has stolen my bucket..."
How his "bucket radar" told him this immediately upon arrival into this chaos I cannot say, but everything came to a screeching halt as the bucket search was launched. "I had all my fencing supplies in that bucket, and that "so and so" has taken my bucket and dumped everything right here in the floor....bleh bleh bleh...."
Knowing the upset a lost bucket can cause, I too began the search. It was then I spotted something white at the edge of the woods and realized it was ..a bucket. The farmer dashed outside and fairly skipped down the hill to retrieve his treasure. The trip back up the hill however was a different story.
I could tell, even at a distance, that all was not well; the scowl on his face was too pronounced. "That 'so and so' has....(.and here I will take literary license and use my own words) 'answered the call of nature' in my bucket.........."
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to just let fly with a big BAHAHAHAHAHAHA...but I knew better. Instead I said "well you know, we have no functioning facilities here yet and there is nothing but space for miles and miles. What was he to do?" This, the farmer did not find helpful or supportive.
Now, I know you will think I am lying when I say it was then, at this precise moment, that the painter's van pulled into the driveway and parked 1/4 mile up the dirt road by the fence he had been painting. The farmer bolted to his truck like he had been shot out of a cannon, offensive bucket in hand and drove off in a cloud of dust, me screaming behind him "don't fire the painter, I HATE to paint". (It IS after all, all about me). It was a good half hour before the truck and farmer pulled up outside the barn and he climbed out, minus the bucket.
"So?" I said. "He is going to scald my bucket and bring it back tomorrow..." the farmer announced, and I could see the relief on his face. I, of course, was relieved that the painter was still gainfully employed, and chose not to give my opinion about the bucket to the farmer at that time. ...... Just like I would never tell McGyver how to use his paperclip......
I hope this post has not offended anyone. I did warn you....this is FARM and fru fru...and it ain't always pretty...
I loved this the first time around and laughed again this time! Thanks for sharing!
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