I have been wearing the same shirt for five days in a row... and the same jeans... pockets stuffed with necessities like Jolly Rancher candies, flat camera, tally book, pencil, knife, barn door key, and lip balm.
The shirt goes through cycles... covered with horse hair, blood, sweat, a little bit of manure... and then miraculously gets clean.
I take it off, unsnapping in one swift motion, leather reins looped over my arm, revealing my "mash-em flat," otherwise known as sports bra.
I hold the pockets together, up safely above the surface of the trough or dirt tank, and dip the rest of the shirt into the cool water before lifting it dripping to wring out into the dirt.
I arch my back when the wet denim touches my skin, cold and clammy, and oh, so nice.
In 20 minutes I'll wish I could do it again as the hot Arizona sun beats down, and my horse plods along behind slow moving cows, always going somewhere good.