9:48 a.m.
Sunday

I was having a lovely sleep at 7 a.m. when I heard Farmbeau come into the room bitching loudly about something. I thought something drastic had occurred.

“What happened?” I asked, rolling over to look at him.

“You always have to wreck my hats by putting something on them, don’t you?”

“Oh Jesus,” I said. “I thought the end of the world was nigh!”

As if this couldn’t have waited, I thought, until I was awake. It wasn’t a very nice way to greet the day, so I tried to go back to sleep in hopes that I’d wake again to a more pleasant morning. But no such luck. Adrenalin had already filled my veins, so after a half-hour I was just about to get up when Farmbeau came in again and said “Thanks for making me supper last night.”

He’s already thanked me at least once, and all I did was make a couple sandwiches before I went for my evening walk and put them in the fridge on a tray with a can of beans and a beer, basically.

Still, any little thing I do for him concerning food is much appreciated. Any little thing like that goes a very long way. I would venture to say that these farmer boys, especially once harvest begins and they are so gung ho they hate to stop and eat, would do almost anything for a woman who prepares food for them. Even a sandwich.

xoxoxoetc
~~~Kate