When I was single, I had a real job that required wearing nice work clothes. I enjoyed all the closets in my little house being full of my selections from stores that I patronized. Suits, dresses, shoes, purses, jewelry. Dressing up to go to work was an event. When I moved to the ranch these clothes were no longer appropriate for my new environment, but it was hard to let go. I liked my clothes. I looked good in my clothes. They were a part of me I reasoned. It took time to realize I was not that "me" any more.
I loved to wear linen shirts in the summer. One day, to make myself feel better, I wore one of my linen shirts I used to wear for court. It was a nice white one from Talbot's and that night I put it in the laundry basket. The next day while I was gone running an errand, Ed needed to wash something and shoved the whole contents of the laundry basket in the washer and then the dryer...without sorting for color or removing the "hang to dry only." I acknowledge this is a cerebral task that escapes some folks. I came home and Ed happily announced he had done the laundry. I was in shock and terribly pleased with the news. Until I started to fold the laundry and came across my linen shirt....which was no longer white...or my size. I told Ed he was forever fired from doing laundry. He smiled and agreed quickly. Best $90 ever wasted on a shirt got him fired permanently from a chore he hated. Well played.
A year later, Ed was desperate for help...and by help I clearly mean a warm body. Although I had never been asked to do "cowboy" work, he was instructing me to take his truck and trailer loaded with cattle from one pasture to another. ME. Lord, what was he thinking? He was very re-assuring about how easy it was all going to be. I climbed in the Ford truck whose color was obscured by dirt and the floorboards were littered with empty Levi Garrett bags, honey bun wrappers, and God knows what else. I had never driven a truck and it was a big, dirty truck. I had never hauled a trailer...with or without cows. I was getting good at being out of my element. I went to put the truck in gear and I noticed the sleeve of my shirt. My linen shirt. With a smile, I drove that truck right down the drive way to the destination ahead. I did. I drove right over the mail box on the way out too. Uh huh. I was promptly fired from my new job and banned for life from ever driving his truck and trailer. That's right, no more moving cattle for me. Best $55 ever spent on a replacement mailbox.
Confucious say "he who rolls up his sleeves seldom loses his shirt."
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