The Chore I Thought Would Take 5 Minutes(And Other Lies I Tell Myself)

I walked outside fully confident.
Just a quick chore, I told myself. Five minutes. In and out. Barely worth putting muck boots on.

That was my first mistake.
Because on the homestead, there is no such thing as a five-minute chore. There are only chores that start with optimism and end with you standing in the yard wondering how it got dark and why you’re holding a tool you don’t remember grabbing and wishing you had more hands to help you.

It always begins innocently enough.
“I’ll just fill the water.” “I’ll just check the fence.” “I’ll just grab the eggs.”

Just!

That word should come with a warning label.

Filling the water turns into noticing the hose leaking. Which turns into realizing the hose has been leaking for days. Which means mud. Which means boots stuck. Which means questioning why you didn’t check the hose sooner.

Checking the fence?

There’s always one post leaning slightly—not enough to ignore, but enough to haunt you. So now you’re pounding posts, untangling wire, and having a silent argument with livestock who are watching you like this is a live performance and judging you loudly about it.

And grabbing the eggs?

That’s when you discover someone has decided to redecorate the nesting box. With poop. And feathers. And chaos.

Five minutes.

Sure.

Somewhere along the way, you realize you skipped lunch, your coke is warm (again), and you’ve somehow added three new chores to tomorrow’s list—none of which existed before you stepped outside.

Will I do this again? You bet!  I will once again say, “I’ll just…” and step outside unprepared, unprotected, and wildly overconfident.
Because hope springs eternal.
Deep down, I still believe—despite all evidence—that this time it really will only take five minutes.

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