I am wore slap out

I changed the shredded tire on the wagon first thing this morning, piddled around with some odds and ends around the barn until the dew burned off and headed for the field with the rake and spent the next five and a half hours raking. Bigger brother came down and brought the Ferguson and the round baler and proceeded to tear the just repaired belt after one roll.

Since about a third of the field actually looked pretty decent (Bermuda, Dallis and some Fescue) I started square baling until Bigger Brother took over. My last words to him were "...don't bale any of that ^&%# Johnsongrass, I can't do anything with that Sh*t ." I then left to go over to LA's to see about getting him to roll the crappy looking stuff with his JD round baler. Came back thirty minutes later to find brother in the middle of the Johnsongrass just baling away.

I swear he does things like that just to piss me off.

He dropped about three hundred on the ground and went home. I hooked up the wagon behind the baler and baled until dark. I quit when I started popping shear pins. TC came home from work and got LA's baler and rolled most of what was left on the ground. We may have four or five windrows left to do tomorrow. I may square bale most of it. I need to get the broken wagon tongue fixed tomorrow and avoid having to handle the partial load of hay on it twice.

Sweetie finally called, her phone had died earlier in the day, which left me in the dark as to her wherabouts. She was at Mountealge and asked me to meet her at the rental car place in forty-five minutes. We stopped at Taco Hell on the way home (that is a clear sign I haven't eaten all day when I'm willing to go to Taco Hell to eat) and I came up here and finished up my Photoshop project. Now that it's 3am, I find that I'm too tired to sleep now.

Tomorrow (today?) is going to be hell at the Saltmine.