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On the last Monday of October, I didn't get out to do night chores until after 10 PM.  The temperature was below freezing and dropping, and it looked like the snowfall would be the first of the season to actually stick around.  My wife had recently cleaned out the basement and left a bunch of unorganized stuff outside the backdoor which I didn't want to get buried under snow, so I took some time to find places for the more important junk.

In one of the storage bins, I came across the spare bulbs for the field lights, so I decided to haul a ladder over to the light pole by the goat pen and replace the burned out flood light while the wind was calm.  While I was at the top of the pole, I thought it a good idea to also reposition the lights, and I pointed one right at the entrance to the goat barn since we don't have a light in the barn.  (When doing chores after dark we wear a light hat.)

The last thing I did before going back indoors was milk the goats, and by the time I got to that it was nearly 1:15 AM.  Thressia didn't have much milk to give, and she was being slow about eating the sweet feed I had given her, so to give her a moment to finish up, I went and stood in the doorway of the goat barn to see what the other goats were doing.

The goat barn is right next to a road, and just as I moved to the doorway, a police car was slowly rolling by.  I could see the policeman clearly as his cabin was fully illuminated by a red light, so I waved, because that's the friendly kind of thing folks 'round these parts do.  The cop then stopped his car and rolled down his window.  There was an awkward pause, so I blurted out, “I'm just milkin' the goats.”

“I thought you might be doing something like that,” he said.

There was another awkward pause, then he said, “I'm just checking the condition of the roads.”

After yet another pause, I said, “Have a good night!” then disappeared back into the barn to see if Thressia had finished her grain yet.