Wrassen, Frassen, Sassen…

My inner Yosemite Sam comes out full force when I am mad at myself for some bonehead move that I have perpetrated for absolutely no good reason and I can cuss a blue streak with nonsense words just like my hero, YS.

My latest goof-up happened this morning. I grabbed my gloves to head out to the barn. First, I was assaulted by the smell. I have been sweating buckets the last two weeks during hay season, and these gloves have been soaked in sweat most of that time. Then, I noticed that most of the latex coated palms were missing large chunks of that protective coating and my right hand pinkie had no covering at all, the fabric and coating was completely missing.

Even though I am very slow to throw out anything, I felt that I had used up all the goodness out of this pair of gloves. I broke down and headed to the glove basket that I had filled before hay season started. I pulled out a replacement pair, they were made of bamboo with latex palms and were touted as being as comfortable as skin. I broke off the cardboard price tag and several plastic tacks that held the pair firmly together.

Since these new gloves were fairly thin and pliable, I jammed them into the front pocket of my jeans and headed to the barn. A couple of hours later after feeding was complete and I was well into watering the garden and filling the stock tanks, I went to grab my brand new gloves from my pocket. There was only one glove there. Somewhere over the last two hours, one of them had dropped out of my pocket.

During the rest of the watering and chores, I retraced my steps all around the farm in search of one glove. Wouldn’t you know it, they are a drab green color that fits right in with the dust and drying grasses around here. I have exhausted my search, I cannot find that glove, so I’ve resulted to swearing.

DIRTY ROTTEN WRASSEN, FRASSEN, SASSEN…..

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