The last two hours

Have been a collection of small Paigeasters.

I worked until 7, then went to the farm and attempted to water. This is complicated by the fact that there is a snow drift at gate two, so I cannot drive all the way in, which means I cannot use my headlights for seeing.

First thing I did was get the hose and reel out of the deep freeze where it lives with a heater. Someone had changed it from my regular reel to a smaller one. That was nice. Or so I thought. I started to unroll it and immediately realized it was jacked up. A drunk monkey had clearly rolled it up last nite. It was a disaster. It is a long hose - about 130 feet-- so you have to pay attention when you roll it, or it will never be right. It has to be taut, you cannot have loops etc or it won't roll and unroll. And since it is smaller than the normal reel, you have to do all that while bent over. TWENTY-EIGHT minutes later I had that SOB undone. I had cussed every person I know, every animal I know, every inanimate object I know---you name it, it came out of my mouth.

But I got it. I started the first trough, then went back to the car to go get gas while it ran. Not only did I bust my ass in the drift and get covered in snow, I had left the car running since I was only going to be there a minute. Ha. All that unrolling and cussing had taken so long that I had run out of freaking gas. In my own driveway.

And it was cold, since I just fell out in the snow, not wearing a coat, in 22 degree weather.

One thing went right-- I knew we had gas in the barn, so I put in enough to get to the gas station and went to get it while the water was running. Did that, fell down on ice at gas station. So now, my wet self had debris and detritus and such attached to me. There is a look.

Back to the farm, to switch troughs, feed ponies, etc. Rinse repeat, rinse repeat--filled up five troughs in an amazingly short amount of time since BS changed the spigot head.

I came home, locked the dogs in the house, and got the hose for the boys out. Their trough is frozen solid again, despite new heater in it from last time. I was ready though, I hauled my coiled up hose to the backyard--the one that does not reach all the way to the fenceline, so I still have to use buckets to carry the water the last few feet. I got the hose hooked up, and it went berserk and shot me. You would think that would be good, since it might rinse off the gravel that was stuck to me from the gas station, but it was really freaking cold out there.

Got that lined out, started hauling buckets and heard a weird sound. It was a clanging and banging from the back of the pasture, near the old dog pen. Since I had to figure that out, and wondered why my ponies were not running to get water that they had to be craving, I untied the gate, patting myself on the back for unplugging the fence first this time, and not freezing to the gate like I usually do. I could see Twister kind of glowing near the dog pen, but had no idea that he was IN IT. He had gotten in through a really narrow walk gate and it had shut on him. It was not actually latched, but the latch had fallen down when the gate was on the inside and ol boy could not get out! The banging and clanging was him kneeing the door.

Can you imagine? How long has he been in there, you wonder? I certainly do, but I know I saw him at the round bale this morning, so no harm no foul. What a fruit loop.

I got him out and he and the Fonz came for water. Sly could not be bothered. I have no idea what that was about, but he was on all fours with his head in a bale, and I was starting to get frostbite, so I let him be and assumed it was a good chance for the other boys to drink before the Boss took all the water for himself. I only had to haul 6 buckets of water, and probalby had about that much on me, but I brought my froze up self in the house via the garage.

That is where I saw raccoon mama and her raccoon children. But not the pork chops I was looking for.

To hell with it, I am going to bed.

You all should thank your lucky stars this distracted me from the story I was going to tell you about how a 37 year old woman ran from the police this weekend. With her law school intern, mind you. Now if that is not a role model, I do not know what in hell is. Be glad I am sparing you that.