In September there was dove hunting season. I know the exact moment that this season comes in because it is accompanied by the banging and booming of the shotguns going off at daylight in my back yard.
In October squirrel hunting season came in. The man who can't carry the trash out because it's raining, will wander and wade all day in the woods, in the mud, shooting at squirrels. Guess who has a pile of dripping clothes to wash after he gets home?
Now quail season is open. The man is a serious quail hunter. He has 3 dogs, all pointers, he has the training collar, the ATV, the vest with many pockets, he even has a gps thingy so he won't get lost. However, he's forgotten how to use it since the last time he used it which was last Fall.
Daniel Boone, he's not.
You'd think because the Man loves to hunt that he'd always be able to put his hands on everything he needs to hunt, wouldn't you?
It ain't happening.
It takes him at least a couple of hours of searching before he's finally ready to leave, by which time, I'm ready to take up hunting myself, and not for some sweet little furry or feathered creature. He puts things "up" and then forgets where he puts them. It makes perfect sense to me for him to put all of the things he needs for hunting in one place, but apparently this is not how he does things. He has this idea that someone is moving his stuff from where he KNOWs he's put it, just so they'll have to listen to him bitching and griping about not being able to find it.
In my defense, I'd never do that. Why would I delay the feelings of perfect peace that I have when he's finally out the door and on his way to the woods? In their defense, the kids would never do that either. They wouldn't want to see their Nanaw biting bullets because their PopPop was still climbing atop the chairs to look atop every cabinet and into every nook and cranny, leaving a trail of stuff in his wake.
We need a room, in another building, far away from the house, to put his hunting gear. Maybe with a cot, a TV, and a remote.