We Bought a Farm: Let's talk about taking a shower

Showers and farming perplex me.

With the uptick in heat here in the Tennessee Mountains, I have been starting chores at 6am. With meat birds on the pasture, it takes about 90 minutes to get everything done for the start of the day.

By 7:30am, I am back home and filthy. I am drenched from the humidity, often have chicken poop somewhere on me, and have been dripping sweat for the good part of an hour.

This morning, the humidity meant I had not a single spot on my clothes I could wipe my sweat off on. I was completely drenched. 

Then I get home. 

And ... shower?

That's the question. 

Do I shower?

Usually as I come in, there is discussion of other things that need to get done on the farm. This morning it was putting up another sheep paddock, taking down some reels, moving chickens, and helping deliver fence posts to a remote part of the pasture.

So then I must decide.

Do I take a shower? What is the point of taking a shower only to get gross again?

And this is not just a "Do I take two showers?" discussion. I could come in and out like that half a dozen times a day. I can't take a half dozen showers.

So often I don't shower. I don't sit on the furniture and choose to sit on the hard dining room table chairs just to keep my dirt wipe-down-able.

But it isn't really about sweat. I'm ... gross. Like this is not just sweat and dirt. It often includes chicken poop. When you move chicken tractors, you can't help but get some of it on your hands which ends up on your clothes.

Sometimes I just change my clothes and wash my hands really well and go on through my day. 

Other times I try to cram all the really messy, hot, sweaty jobs into one section of the day to prevent multiple messy moments.

And then, here's the other thing. Let's say I choose no shower. And then halfway through the day I realize: "We need bread from Yoder's." Or maybe the truck is out of gas.

And so I run down the road to grab something from the store or fill up the truck. I throw on my boots and head in and suddenly I realize: 

Years ago I used to look at people in the store and think: "Why would they leave the house looking like that? Don't they know they have cow poop on them? Their boots are filthy! Don't they shower?"

And now, here I am. I'm filthy. And we need bread. But I can't shower. Because then I'll be dirty again when I go home.

So instead I go to Yoder's as is. 

I'm a farmher.

And truth be told, I'm kind of proud of my dirt,