Isn't that adorable, the way he/she imagines my life to be one of unending, buckwheat honey coated joy and bliss? I suppose they were referring to the fact that we have no time cards to punch, no policy manuals to memorize, no trainees to train. no bosses to patootie kiss.
Instead our day starts very early and only ends when the fat lady snores. At no time do I glance up at the clock and say to myself, "only 5 more minutes to go, better grab my lunch bag." Rather, I glance at the clock and mumble, "How did it get to be 6 pm already ? I still have 10 invoices to finish, and ten emails to answer and 10 calves to water (well OK, Keith usually does the evening chores) but...you get the point.
And in case you did not get it, the point is, we chose this lifestyle just like the aforementioned relative chose his/hers. I've walked in those shoes before where the day ended when my boss said "goodnight" and I do miss that sometimes but I will not be goofy enough to tell you (out loud) how easy I think your job is.
Would be so cool if you limited your comments about the luxury of self-employed farming until you got out of my earshot. Oh, and on the way down the driveway, could you stop at that big metal barrel and throw some feed at our Red Wattle Boar Mad Max.?
I lost track of time.
|Just one more thing that cannot be grown|
in a eight hour day.