The good news this morning is that its not raining like a mama cow pissing on a flat rock.
Stop one requires a good bit of effort just to get in the damn front cattleguard.
Everyone of these yahoo's owning a lock on this ranch must have called yesterday afternoon while the lawn was trying to get mowed, whining about something. Why does so-and-so let his cows get out, there's a pot hole in the road that needs fixin'....why do my checks keep gettin' smaller and smaller.
My nephew-in-law wants to hunt deer, can we put another lock in the box?
Then Mr. Roddie's pet pig, who thinks he is a dog, has always got to come up and sniff the pickup, get his ears scratched. The meathead.
The Boogie Man didn't show up last night, at least that's something. Not here, anyway. But this stop is one out 23.
This mornings first tank gauge is a little bit of surprise. Actually a jump two feet high surprise. Damn chicken snakes.
Its shapin' up to be another Monday.