I've been pretty grumpy since burning my belly while canning tomatoes. I'm on antibiotics that won't allow me to go outside in the sun, so I feel like a prisoner. I sneak out at sunrise and sunset when there's little risk of sunburn. It totally sucks, for this woman who hates being stuck inside.
I needed to get Bonnie's almost-yearling calf, Max, into the barn so he'd be ready to load and take to the butcher shop tomorrow morning.
At 7:30 P.M., I decided it was safe to go outside.
The heat was horrible, and as I headed out the front door, I said to Cliff, "I hate heat!"
Cliff, being hard of hearing, asked what I said and I repeated it, and added, "... and I hate that I burned my belly canning tomatoes, and I hate that I'm on antibiotics that won't let me go outside all day!"
With that, I slammed the door.
I put Max in the stall and went to the garden. I found onions, cucumbers, and okra ready, and picked all of that. I looked at all the tomatoes turning red. I turned on the soaker hose.
I came in the back door and said to Cliff, "Our cup runneth over; I love gardening. Oh, and I love air conditioning."
"Damn," says Cliff. "You need to use that back door all the time. From now on, I don't ever want to see you using the front door."