my tribute to hump day?

Hump Day in Pair- a-dice

     Suppose if you lived in paradise you really wouldn’t need a hump day. Or does everything being perfect diminish the importance of living in the essential Shangri la, or Garden of Eden of your dreams. Or is more importance is now set to your own imperfections. Was that a fart I detected?

      I am sure perfect is nice but will settle for what I have and be thankful that I have the ability to appreciate it. Besides I doubt I could ever live up to a perfect person’s expectation or care to. In fact slightly off kilter is ok with me. The trouble with living on a farm is that one day becomes another, things change but not as quickly as you do sometimes. So hump day is just another day to the farmers of the world. You walk outside your door and you are at work, no commuting. Cows and fields need tended seven days a week. Whether you do the work or not it is still there as nature never takes a break.  

     But then most people have never experienced my idea of paradise. Just yesterday while watching a local farmer who has much larger investment in machinery, run his new combine over rented fields. This thing is huge and requires a separate trailer to truck around the head, and will try and find a pic of his old combine, but it is nothing compared to this new one. Seems he trades in on newer and larger all the time. Anyhow it was neat watching this guy run around in the darkness combining soybeans undoubtedly supplied by Monsanto.

Managed to get some painting done on Indian 

     This is my idea of paradise sitting in that cab and going across the field. Air conditionings, stereo, imagine it even has Wi-Fi. You set up high in this cab with monitors always checking production and functions of the machine as acre after acre disappear into the throat of this giant. No time for hump day here. Would love to do it and at one time in my life gave consideration to joining the combine fleets as they make a swath across the Northern central  and Midwestern states  of the United States, moving from one small town to the next. Like Gypsy’s of the fields. Imagine what it would look like in Kansas watching the sun come up over a golden field of wheat rolling beneath you. That would be my paradise. Now paying for all that stuff can be somebody else’s dream , plus worrying about who is responsible if Monsanto’s new soybeans suddenly help you grow that extra toe you always wanted.

     Well real soon I will be out the door eager to get this hump day over with, so I can look forward to the next. Well not real eager plan on taking my time. In fact if I see a rose, I might just stop and see if the faded blossoms will leave a faint trace of yesterday.