Moving all of the hay yesterday, I discovered that my hands are not what they used to be. I used to move 10 racks worth of bailed hay in a single morning, with bare hands and never got a blister. But now, because I work in an office, I have, sissy girly hands rather than man hands.
If only I could remember to bring leather gloves, but I never have any in the truck. I was pondering this morning after haying, and thought to myself, “if only there was a place I could keep gloves in the truck.”
If only they were can parts of sorts, cleverly and unobtrusively built into the very structure of the interior of my truck. For gloves.”
Then it dawned on me.
Little Farm in the Big City 