Since we downsized the farm from cattle and crops to just haying in the summer and loading and selling bales in the fall and early winter, the Foreman has struggled with how to occupy himself throughout the winter.
Typically, he’d busy himself with the local coffee shop crowd and twice-daily updates on life and local happenings, but this winter, with COVID restrictions and a month so cold even the rocks show signs of winter kill, socializing was at a stand-still. Other than daily trips for a farm fix when he moves the bales from one side of the field to the other, the Foreman, was in the “off” season.
Many days during the cold spell, after he returned from the farm and the frost began to seep out of his pores, the Foreman would sit down with the newspaper. I’d watch as his eyes would begin to glaze over. Then with a blink one second too long at the newspaper in his hands, he would tip over, sound asleep. As the chaff sifted out of his pockets, he dreamed of high bale prices.
One day while the newspaper over his face rose and fell, and strange sounds emitted from underneath, I came down with a severe case of closet clean-out-itus. It was one of those minus 34 days and I had cabin fever from being house bound.
While the Foreman napped, I leaned on a closet shelf as I pondered what to discard. Unfortunately, I pondered too long, and the six-foot shelf collapsed on me. The startled foreman found me under three layers of clothes – the ones I might wear someday if I lose weight – and released me from a cardigan sweater hostage taking. It was clear from the broken brackets that this closet cleanout crisis was now a renovation project.
After extricating the contents of the closet, we proceeded to install new brackets in place of the broken ones. A simple task, you say. The Foreman is a good farmer and great with building corrals and fences, but in household carpentry operations the Skilsaw becomes unskilled and the hammer becomes a bent nail straightener.
Household renovating with the Foreman has taught me a thing or two. The dead battery holder, also known as the cordless drill, will have to be recharged and a great many tools will have to be fetched. If we had a construction company, it would be called “Could you get me the…” company. I know from previous experience that the job is almost finished once every tool we own is in the same room at once.
After an intense discussion, it was decided we should put in an extra bracket for support in the middle of the rod. I had to discourage the Foreman from using a corral post.
The new bracket decision brought about the inevitable stud location turmoil. After several minutes of knuckle pounding and measuring, (our lost stud locator was the only tool not in proximity of the closet) the location of the stud was decided upon. The Foreman proceeded to drill a new hole for the bracket with the now charged drill. The knuckle pounding and measurement proved to be wrong. It was a millimicron out. I muttered under my breath that we now have a destruction company.
The brackets and shelving eventually got installed and I thought, while I had him captured, I could get the Foreman to sort the clothes on his end of the closet.
Then there is his jeans drawer. GWG closed in 2004. They could reopen if they had access to the Foreman’s jeans drawer. And there are the ten thousand files for the farm business and the promo cap shelf in the other closet and the town files…
Winter works projects for another day.
