Why am I barefoot … outside … in February??

My mother-in-law tells the grandkids they can not go barefoot in months

with an “R” in them.  Think about it…

I am not a stick-in-the-mud.  However, I was stuck in the mud.

It was my own darn fault, too.  You see, I was in a bit of a huff and not really paying attention.

I was in a huff because I was picking up feed sacks all around the barn.  My husband has a really annoying-to-me habit of emptying feed sacks and dog food bags then dropping them on the ground!  Gasp!  He doesn’t even really pile them up – just carelessly throws them aside.  Then a gust of wind or the playful dogs will disperse the bags throughout the yard and countryside.

While doing chores Monday evening, I started picking up the wayward bags, their strings and tops, the hay & straw bale twine, etc.  I was stuffing bags and trash into bags and huffing about the whole scenario.  I huffed and puffed my way out into the disked up pasture to retrieve a dogfood bag.  Huffiness led to distractedness.  Pretty soon my fast pace was making sloopy and mud-sucking noises.  I couldn’t move forward or backward.  I couldn’t lift my foot.  Well, I could lift my foot, but it came out of my boot.  I pulled.  I sank.  I sank some more … to the tops of my boots.

UHM…. I turned at the hip to look around.  (Picture Tim Conway in his Dorf character.)  I could see my husband walking toward the shed.  I sweetly called, “Hey Larry…Can you come here?”  He wanted to know what I needed.  I said, “I need help.  I’m in a bit of a pickle.”  Larry is a man on a mission when he does chores.  He does not like to be interrupted or distracted by trivialness.  He would consider me being stuck, due to my own stupidity, trivial.  He insisted upon an explanation as to what the heck I was doing out in the pasture, stuck to my knees.  I told him I was retrieving the wayward dogfood sack.  I refrained from mentioning he was the one that didn’t properly dispose of the sack.  After all, I did need his help.  He mucked his way to me.  I suggested he not come out quite as far as I.  Somehow, we pulled me out of the mud.  Minus one boot and a sock that stayed in the boot.  I slupped my way to the yard.  Hubby pulled my boot out!   I was most impressed.

Several rinsings of cold water…a large load of laundry…and one hot shower later…life was good again.  However, the sack remains in the pasture.

About Marla Rose

This blog documents our farm life in central Illinois with photographs, experiences, and a dash of cooking. Pour a cup of coffee and enjoy sharing part of our lives!
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11 Responses to Stick-in-the-mud

  1. Christy says:

    I feel your pain. This has happened to me more than once this winter. The kids find it funny. Mostly, because I usually end up falling in the mud too. I have left muddy socks in the barn lot, out of anger. I will be glad when all this mud is gone.

  2. I think this is really funny. (Sorry to laugh at your expense, but I can’t help myself.) I’ve been thinking about posting a mud story, too, but yours is the best. Glad you got out alive.

  3. So funny! When we lived in NM, they had mud that would pile up under your shoes, so when we would walk around the house, we would come back in about 6 inches higher, lol. This story made me think of those days.

  4. I nominated you for a Versatile Blogger Award. I think it’s kind of like a chain letter, but it’s a fun way to tell my readers about your blog. You can go here if you want more info:

  5. Shannon says:

    That’s just crazy!! My husband got stuck in the mud once when he was a little kid. He lost both of his shoes and socks when they pulled him out. That freaked me out when he me the story. I came over from Jess’ blog. See? Those chain letter’s do their job!

  6. Pingback: Pig-farmer: the man, the myth, the legend | justmakethecoffee

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