It was sometime around high noon on the fifth day of my recovery process - dad came marching his way through my doorway, took a single glance at my bedridden self, claimed that I'm good to go, and promptly dragged me all the way out to the fields.
There were things to be done, and apparently, me the half-cripple, was the only man capable of getting those things done.
Never mind that he has been doing just fine all on his lonesome the entire time. No, apparently pulling weeds and feeding the chickens among various other small trivial tasks were just simply too much for him this time.
I didn't mind the exercise..but really, if he wanted to just see me, he could have just seen me… no need to hide behind this pretense of needing an extra hand - because when you're packing massive arms like the one he's got - like, seriously?
Guess shitty lying skills are a hereditary thing.
