I'm not sure what happened to him, or if he hired someone else to take his place this Harvest, but my husband is not The Boss anymore. When he needs parts he says please and thank-you, when he tells me to flag the combines one way, and then I proceed to lead them the other way, he simply helps me turn around, when I bring supplies out to the field he smiles and looks me in the eye and often gives me a pat on the back, and he actually kisses me and hugs me when he comes in the door at night. And all of that without watering down his sweet tea with whiskey, and I can't imagine why.
Today we were out of bed at 5:00 AM, with him headed out to the field and me headed 30 miles away for parts. The kids were still asleep, so I quickly made the crew their lunches and set them out in the yard for pick up. Then I filled the service truck with diesel, washed the windows, and cleaned out all of the garbage out of the cab. I tidied up the house and pre-shower I was out the door and in the car. By 7:30 I had picked up belts and pullies from the parts department and managed to sneak in a little grocery something - this is something that farms wives sneak in on the sly. The Boss might be on his best behavior, but you never, never stop for anything else when they are sitting in the heat, in the field, waiting for parts so they can start working. I delivered the parts and got back home just in time to see the kiddos getting up for breakfast. I was here no more than an hour, just long enough to put groceries away, clean the bedroom, and start some laundry when I got the call again. We needed more belts.
By 10:00 this morning, I had already driven for parts twice. When I got back The Boss, at least I think he is The Boss, was covered from head to toe in chaff, which is the scaly dry casings that go around the seed, as well as a bunch of dust and some ground up stubble. Now, unless you have driven a truck or a combine you cannot - no matter how much you try and imagine it or compare it to some kind of itch that you have been through - even begin to comprehend how much chaff falling like snow around you on a normal day itches. Today, my husband had to actually get in the back of the combine where the chaff spits out the back and dig it all out with his hands, pulling to toward him, his shirt, his sweaty body and all the way down to his feet. Getting plugged happens, and as a result, unplugging happens as well, but when it happens on a 97 degree day, before noon, when you will be out in the field without a shower until almost 10:00 PM, that would put anyone in a bad, bad, bad mood.
But, for some reason when I pull up with the second set of parts, he manages to walk over, smile and once again say Thank You! I'm starting to wonder just where The Boss is. Maybe he hired a stand in and is really on a beach in Tahiti somewhere.
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