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I would make a round on the tractor and Dad would pull out in the field and scream at me what I was doing wrong. He would point and shout over the tractor noise and I would scream and shout back. Neither of us could hear the other. Next round he would be back shouting at me again that I was doing it all wrong.
This continued all day Saturday until I thought I would go crazy. I would probably have finished 2 or three hours earlier if I did not have to continually stop to listen to him rant at me about how to do it correctly.
Thank God we finished. I will gladly let one of my evil brothers take over this task.
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