Milkweed

I'm not at my best when I get home from work in the morning.  My clothes are splattered w/ manure and, on unlucky days, w/ urine.  I'm wet from the back spray of the jet hoses and, depending on the season, I'm too hot or too cold.  I'm wearing rubber boots, ripped jeans, a black tee, and my old glasses.  That's why I particularly hated it this morning when a truck that had been parked on the hill followed me into my driveway.  I let Indy out of the house and she acted the way I had hoped.  She raised her hackles and barked ferociously as the man stepping out of his truck.  Unfortunately, the lure of car tires that had been in unknown places where other unknown dogs had left their scent was too much and she suddenly lost interest in the intruder in favor of smelling around his vehicle.  The man had a deal that he thought I would be interested in since it had the potential for "big money."  I told him I had enough money already.  Not the answer he expected - especially coming from someone attired as I was - but it had the desired effect and he left.   To me, at that moment, getting into a nice hot shower was worth all of the "big money" anyone would ever want to offer.