Quote:
Originally Posted by Cowperson
Shovelling rotten, moldering, liquified potatoes and carrots out of a root cellar while working as slave labour on my uncle's farm. . . . . the gag reflex was working overtime that day.
Picking rocks out of a field for days on end, by hand, is also not as much fun as it might sound at first.
And anytime you have to put a long-time pet to sleep is a difficult duty . . . horrible the first time but, while still sad, more pragmatic thereafter.
Cowperson
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I didn't mind picking rocks by hand as much as re-piling windrows of half burnt stumps and logs that had been cleared to make arable land. The soot and ash were horrible ... I used to feel like I'd spent the day working in Mordor. By comparison, rocks were at least clean and somewhat interesting, albeit brutal on the muscles.