They call me Calamity Jane.
I've been weed eating for days and still haven't caught up. I'm a walking Chia Pet.
Lately, the days have gotten out of hand before 8 AM, causing a ripple effect to last through till I leave the barn after 9 PM.
Take Monday. After two straight days of being so busy that I forgot to eat breakfast, lunch and supper until after 10 PM, I was going to turn this bus around; take the dogs for a run before work, slip in at one of the houses, check the pool and prep for a contractor... all before 8 AM.
This is where my ride decided to overheat and expire. Halfway to nowhere, I hobbled.
Only two weeks into wearing my boot cast, I've worn the treads clean off, almost to the plastic frame. I wonder if I can cut apiece of tire to glue onto the bottom. I wore my Fitbit over the weekend to overwhelm myself with data. Since, my foot is broken, I've been slacking, I'm down to 14 miles walked a day.
My future accountant self will miss a job requiring me to shoot hogs in the middle of the night, operate heavy equipment, be outdoors all day, have a work address where the horses outnumber the humans.
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| Rainbow photos courtesy Bri Mitchell |
But then there are days like Saturday, Sunday and Monday...
Early Monday, Micah snagged a squirrel on our way to work on the pool.
Mr. Squirrel didn't check out without a fight.
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These things happen when one attempts to hold live rodents in one's mouth: your tongue gets filleted.
What was intended to be a brisk, multitasking, "check 4 things off my list before 8 AM" day turned into a third day in a row battling Murphy and his Laws.
The new mission: wrap up work at my boss' house before the HVAC tech arrives, borrow a bike and head back to the barn. Foiled again: tech arrives early. How to conceal the fact my day has gone to shit and I'm still in my pyjama top? Modify your .45 holster to double as a sports bra.
Success: my jammies are overlooked because it appears I've murdered someone. Kudos to him for carrying on a normal conversation when I had blood all over my face from trying to fight Micah who wouldn't let me peer into his mouth.
Back at the barn, Micah redecorates the office. He gets relegated to priority #2 because the farm's asthmatic mascot is having a moment.
Inhaler treatments to the rescue.
As tempting as it is, never give up. Outwork, outmaneuver, resist Murphy .
Monday night, friends across the road summoned me for supper. Stinky, sweaty and dejected, I stopped in at 9:30 PM for the first meal of the day. Salmon, my absolute favorite. I'm the only 50 year old to have been adopted by a couple 30 year olds. It's supposed to work the other way around, but the powers that be must've known I wouldn't have survived so long out here without my little fam across the road.
Previous two nights, I made the dogs eggs.
My chickens finally understood the assignment and are laying.
In bed by 2 AM with 8 dogs.
"Murphy, you'd better get some sleep because I'm suiting up to collide with you head on tomorrow and every day. Bring it."
