Goran hosed his boots and kicked them dry against the wall. He cracked his stiff neck and entered through the front door. He had been up early to work on a fence that had been poorly put up. The fence had been trickier then he had thought at first but now it would last some time. He had also taken time to check upon the hay. Yet now he went in to get something to eat. He walked across the dining room, not caring to look around if there where any one else around. He wasn't in the mood for talking anyway. As he walked he left a few wet steps behind him but the floor was a farmers floor and well taken cared of. He did hose of all mud and shit he got on his boots during work. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. He never drank before nine but he could choose am or pm. He placed the bottle on the counter and slammed the cap with his palm to get it opened. The cool Irish Kilkenny watered his dry throat and he could wipe the sweat from his forehead.<br/><br/>He found some leftovers from last supper and smiled. It was pasta, with a delicious cheese and bacon sauce. Along with that came some meatballs, which by his standard got an A minus. The minus was as always because they weren't Swedish. Well he put all out of their buckets and placed them on a deep plate. After that he placed them in the microwave and waited while starting at his food as he slowly drank his beverage. Seconds before the beep he shut off the microwave and took out his meal. The smelled fresh and watered his mouth. He picked up a fork from it's place and placed it in his food. Then he walked back to dining room, sat down at the table and begun to eat. He leaned over his meal and placed his left arm around the plate. As he ate he wondered if there was something he had forgotten to do about the farm.