You Smell Like Death…

So I got home Thursday night from butchering and stripped down to my long johns.

I sat down on the recliner for a few minutes and here’s how the conversation goes…

Wife:  You’re going to need to take a shower before getting in bed.

Me:  Why?

Wife:  You smell like death…

Me:  Huh?

Wife:  You smell like death…

Me: Oh, ok…

Wife:  You’re not sleeping in the bed smelling like that.  You need to take a shower first, I don’t want the bed to smell like that.

Me:  Oh, ok…

A few minutes later, she goes in grabs the febreeze and sprays down my vest and hat that I was wearing that night and I decided to take the clothes I was wearing and put them in the mud room.  At this point, I had been up since about zero dark thirty that morning and it was now around 10, 10:30.  I had been on my feet since getting home from work around 4:00 and was in no shape to do much of anything but sleep.  I was quite exhausted.

Needless to say I slept on the recliner that night.

Last night, I went butchering again and since we were mostly done with the cutting, cleaning, etc, we pretty much just worked on getting everything ground up and the sausage put together.  We had the bones, etc in the pot to make scrapple and it was a decent night.  Long, but not too bad, legs were sore between a combination of being on my feet over the last two nights on cold concrete and the first half of the week back running on a regular basis again.

At least when I got home last night, I “didn’t smell as much like death” and got to sleep in the bed.

Not too much going on today, need to do some cleaning and HAVE to do laundry so I can have the clothes for Monday, we’re doing three more pig.

Well, that’s about it for now, more later.


~ by Normanomicon on January 16, 2010.

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