I'm grateful that every day at the farm is different than the last. But, I'd be OK with a boring Monday every once in a while.
Breakfast of champions before we all descended upon the barn.
Check out my 45 lb paperweight! She can spend the whole day sprawled across my desk.
This Monday was acting normal-- it was a ruse.
We scoop, on average, 7 muck buckets full of manure and pee every morning.
So far, so good. Horses fed, water tanks changed, million and one administrative and HR tasks handled, workers off on the tractor picking up after yet another storm, the neighbor leaving to haul one of our mowers to tow for servicing, finally I was ready to tackle my daily jobs.
All was well in the world. My plan was to mow with the Big Daddy mower. Until, it wouldn't start. While wrestling the battery out of it to put it on charge, I managed to arc the terminals with the wrench and the metal pin in my finger. It felt great.
Yes, I'm supposed to be wearing a bandage over it at all times. I tried for 2 days. I can't keep my hands dry and even if I could, with temps almost at 100 today, the bandage turns into a wet oven mitt..
Checking jobs off my list, I was feeling confident. Next task: spray a few tanks of RoundUp. Easy peasy. Wrong.
On my third full tank, a gasket somewhere failed. The chemical solution started to travel down my back, filling my underwear and then my shoes. It takes a minimum of 30 minutes to pump out a full tank. I think I did it in 20.
Completely saturated. All my clothes were tossed in the pickup and I pulled a Lady Godiva to hightail it back to the barn.
The temps had dropped enough to let our 2 residents patients out of their air conditioned stalls after their supper. I fill 8 buckets every evening when both our Ice Box stalls are in use.
There's usually spare clothes in the barn, the communal sweatpants must've walked off. I was improvising.
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| Jesus take the wheel |
Whatever it takes to keep the asthma and Cushing's horses at the highest quality of life.
Last check on the horses and I can finally go home and wash the chemicals off me.
Lacking their regular runs, the dogs have been restless. Suki had yet another surprise for me when I got home.
I'm not even going to bother to sew it at this point, I've discovered it taunts her even more. Besides, I had an important Accounting Analytics project due at midnight. I'd worked it and reworked it for 3 nights. Utter futility.
I submitted it at 11:58 PM. I do not understand these complex Excel formulas that seem second nature to the other students in the class. Yeah, genius here weaseled her way into a graduate level accounting class to discover she's the only one who's never worked as an accountant and most of the students are already practicing CPAs. This is going to be double diamond ski hill steep learning curve.
They say you become more eccentric with age. I can see that. I already have an intolerance for TV and all its noise, apart from Pippins occasional barking, my house is a quiet refuge. My phone goes on mute at 8 PM, zero interruptions after I get home. And yet, it's still not quiet enough, I wear the sound cancelling ear muffs when I study.
I've heard people describe silence as 'oppressive'. To me, it's 'embracing'. All in your perspective.
I take a nap until 4 AM and start all over again.
