I got busy yesterday afternoon with real, paying customers so I didn't do yesterday's prompt. Then, of course, DS is home so I spent my evening talking to him so I didn't do it last night either. I am determined to get caught up today and stay caught up even with company here. I did manage to arise at 6:30 to do my Wii step aerobics. I'm all nice and sweaty, and I feel great.
August 3--Jean-Francois Millet, Two Reapers Seen from the Back. George's back was broken. It had been broken since mid-morning. What had made him think he could hide here among these rude rural people? He thought when he left the city that coming to the country after losing his job and all the publicity surrounding it would be the right thing, but his money was too short for him to live on as he would like, so he was forced to take this menial job. Only farm labor jobs were available out here in the sticks. He could have worked in the barn for the farmer down the road with the pregnant wife but he refused to reach under the cow to manipulate her for the milk. Her...her parts were covered with shit and looked strangely alien. No, he was not cut out to shovel manure and fondle cattle, so he took this reaping job. It took him a morning to learn the rhythmic motion of the scythe but he never realized how the chaff would stick to his sweaty skin and filter down under his clothes. And the bending over, it was making his back feel as if it would never be straight again.
Not bad, it might have possibilities.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment