Wearing Long-Sleeves For Picking Up Sticks

This is a follow-up to my clothing issues post regarding how I preferred to wear long-sleeved shirts all the time even when it was really hot out which finally ended after being convinced by my brother to wear short sleeves on one exceptionally hot summer day. 

However years later, there was actually a time when my parents MADE me wear long-sleeves in hot weather but before I get to that, I’ll share some other details. I already wasn’t having a too pleasant time as another great school year came to an end, a majority of the other guys at my job didn’t come back which made the work go by slower, had to work Saturdays, couldn’t use my I-Pod to listen to music due to taking too long to pick a song, couldn’t use the adult language of others after going overboard with it and just wasn’t the same as before in an annoying way. 

In fact I got so annoyed by this that I even told my mom that I’d rather work at the land than the bog and then next thing I knew we were going go to the land to pick up sticks, much to my displeasure but when I complained Mom reminded me about I said in an “oh well” kind of attitude. Picking up sticks became a recurring thing even on days when I had work. 

One point when I finally didn’t have to go to work, Mom still woke me up early in the morning because we had to go do stuff at the land and even prepared me breakfast like as if I about to go my job. So we got what we needed in our family truck and drove over there to pick up sticks to into one big pile. Bizarrely when picking the sticks, I was made to wear long-sleeves similar to what one would wear in the fall times and long-pants in really hot weather which certainly was not pleasant, let me tell you.

There was even one day when Brody and I got to go home early from work. But we didn’t get to stay at home for even five minutes when our parents called saying they needed us at the land so we drove over there and I got yelled at by Mom for not bringing long-sleeves even though it was hot outside. Over the next few days while having to do Saturdays at the bog stopped, constant trips to the land to pick up sticks while wearing fall-styled clothing continued and was making me angrier. 

Over the 4th of July weekend, we got to go to a restaurant for breakfast that served really delicious food and I assumed we weren’t going to do work that day. I was actually having a really good time at least until I said something that lead to Dad saying “Well we have to go do stuff at the land.” That instantly ruined my morning. Sure we got to go back home for a bit and I hung out in my home until Mom called me down to get in the truck and head there. 

On the ride over, I sat in my seat fuming in silence for a majority of the ride but it wasn’t until we got to there when I finally yelled “Yay! We get to go to the land, my favorite working place!” Just so you know all of that was sarcasm. Silence followed until Dad said “Blake listen. We don’t feel like doing this either, but this is stuff that HAS to get done.” 

Then we got in there, started doing the stuff, Brody accidentally ran over Dad’s phone with the excavator and the rest is history. 

In conclusion, it was extremely aggravating, tedious and unpleasant. I even consider all of this to be the closet one could get to experiencing Hell.

A recreation of a brown shirt that I used to wear that I wore on one of the days doing this and as of today, I'm unsure of its whereabouts.