Today I went to hell and back, riding on a red vegetable. I’m serious. I think its going to go down in history as one of the worst days of my life.
For who knows what reason, we don’t have school today. For most kids, this is a good thing, but in our family it means spending the day doing fieldwork. Sure enough, Mom woke me up at the break of dawn (it was actually around 8:30 or so) to head out to the field for a “quick, easy job”. Then I found myself heading out to the field a mile away to pick swiss chard in the freezing cold. It had actually frosted over, and stupid me had decided I would be just fine in my Adidas sandals, no socks necessary. After all, its supposed to be a quick job, right? Wrong. When Dad says a quick job, its gonna take you at least 45 minutes. Give or take a little. My feet went numb after approximately two seconds, and we were out there for forever. But I didn’t complain once, which I was very proud of, because some certain people in the family (everyone) is convinced I’m not the best field hand. I am when I want to be. Which isn’t often. Then, just when I thought we were done, we went home with a whole wagonful of swiss chard and were told to start bunching it. This is the bad part. This is the part where Gary plays his country music and I decide to rip my brain out of my head. Well, we didn’t have the right ties for the swiss chard, so Dad got upset and started yelling and sighing and mumbling incoherent phrases, then just went ahead and started bunching them with the wrong ties. This doubled our work because once we had the right ties we had to take off the wrong ties and put on the right ones and do everything else that you do when working with swiss chard. In the freezing cold. Soaking the vegetables in really, really cold water. Not to mention how disorganized the whole system was, because, hey, my dad’s Irish, not German. He doesn’t always make up the most organized plans.
Have I mentioned how much I hate this vegetable? I’ve actually decided that its stalk is so red because they grow it in hell. In the middle of all this work I figured we were just harvesting all the chard so the devil could feast on it.
At one point James and Patrick got into a fight, because Pat is a big bully. He beat James up pretty badly, and managed to hurt to his shoulder quite a bit. James’ shoulder is already in pretty bad condition, and Pat should have known better to hurt someone’s shoulder, because he himself had to get surgery on both his shoulders, and his faulty shoulders actually pretty much ended his basketball career. This halted the swiss chard bunching, because Mom had to come in and give Pat a piece of her mind, with Mary telling her that she shouldn’t have to deal with all that boy stuff, and where was Dad when you need him? I innocently suggested we should go to the library today, because that always calms down our book-loving family.
I myself had to do twice the work my brother had to, because James and Gary got to run off and pick something up for Dad, leaving me in the barn, freezing, deeply contemplating whether or not I should stab myself with the knife I was using on the chard. That poor swiss chard. I was viciously twisting and crunching and cutting it up. Better to take my anger out on a vegetable than a family member, eh?
Then James got back and got to lolligag around listening to his iPod, and I didn’t get to listen to any music being that I do not own an iPod. At that moment, I would have preferred listening to country than listening to nothing. Then I could have turned my rage towards the singers who thought singing about beer and barns, and lowering their intelligence level made them country.
I will never marry, or even like an organic farmer. They’re all idiots.
Now, I’m off to the library. Maybe that’ll stop the smoke pouring out of my ears.