Time to unload (in more ways than the obvious).
We’ve been married 33 years. I still haven’t mastered the art of reading his mind.
I’m certain I’m not the only wife that feels this way. It helps me to think that, anyways.
This is how my morning began. Frank is loaded from last night and is waiting to go to the elevator. Cap’n Combine announces that he’s not going to be able to unload it for me this morning because he really wants to get things started in the field earlier than usual. We’re on our last field and it’s a weedy mess. I tell him that’s fine, I can finish what I’m doing here at the trailer house (making lunches and book work) and dump it. I knew there was an empty truck sitting next to mine so I wasn’t in too big of a hurry.
So, here’s where things go wrong.