Have I ever told you why I keep a big fat DayRunner full of neat, color-coded notes and list after hand-written list? I am no psychologist but I am convinced that my sorry brain is stricken with two parts OCD and one part ADHD...or maybe the other way around.
I constantly feel as if I'm forgetting something extremely important (and to add to the issue, while I am blessed with a vivid long-term memory, my short-term memory leaves something to be desired) and that forgetting this thing has dire consequences. As a result, I go through periods of the day where I check and re-check my DayRunner, and organize or re-write lists as needed.
It is easy for me to be overcome with anxiety and stress. I don't like sitting for long, except at the every end of the day. Otherwise I begin to worry that I'm forgetting something, or I think this or that task could be done. Why waste time on my ass? I wonder, and then I am up again. Running and my trips to the barn give me welcome relief. I am moving and I am busy, yet my brain is quiet.
Perhaps that is one reason I like being tattooed. When you are tattooed, you become purely physical. I can and do read during tattoo sessions but the words flow into one eye and out the other without truly registering. I do not worry, I do not stress. My brain is stone quiet. I am sitting perfectly still yet my body is alive with sensation!
If anything within my life is out of order, my head becomes a whirlpool of turmoil. Unfortunately, this has been tested many times over the past year. I have learned that while I feel like my brain is going to break in half at times, I have yet to snap, despite how far I've been bent on a couple occasions. I guess the mind is much more flexible than it can seem.
Now that we've established that I am crazy, let me tell you about my weekend.
Saturday.
We had planned to go into Chicago but the nonstop torrential rains put an end to that idea. Water seeped into my den again but I choose to ignore it--there is no furniture over the area (everything is still stacked into one half of the office; I had to write a note to myself and put it in my DayRunner--"It is OUT OF YOUR HANDS!") so what can you do? It is not my responsibility anymore; it is up to the apartment management to take the reins on this issue. So, what to do? Stay inside with the wet den?
"But a little rain will not stop me from visiting Limerick!" I thought. If I was still back in Chicago, I probably wouldn't go to the barn. But Lim was only a mile away, what excuse did I have?
Outside, the rain came down so hard that I gave up on staying dry. My windshield wipers beat as fast as they could and my soaked hair and clothes steamed up the inside of the car. Sections of road near the barn were partially flooded and I drove carefully. My car powered down and threatened to stall several times, even before I drove through any larger puddles. Well, maybe it wasn't a good idea to drive after all. But too late, we were almost there!
There was no one else at the barn. No big surprise. I told you that I constantly feel the need to be up and doing something; well, this applies no matter the weather.
Cut through the sodden weekend…
…heavy with errands and overzealous cabin-fever cleaning, and light on fun (although Dave & Busters did show my husband and I that, unfortunately, our future daughter will look like him. While I think my husband is the most handsome guy on Earth, his features are far too masculine for a little girl!)
Sunday evening.
My car won’t start. It tries and tries but the engine just won't turn over. My husband gives me a ride to the barn so I can feed Limerick. I discover that her bags of grain are wet, despite being on a pallet and beneath a tarp. She does not have enough grain in her bin to last her the week. Oh and even if I had a means to get there, doesn't the feed store close at 4:30?
And last but not least, Lim's left fore shoe is loose. The medial side is swinging free but the lateral side is still fairly tight. I put the "No Turnout" sign on her stall and apologize to Lim but I admit a part of me is glad that her feet won't need to be in three feet of swampy muck the next day.
Cut to Monday.
My husband tries my car in the morning and it does not start. I cab it to work. I find out the feed store has a 12-bag minimum for delivery but can make an exception due to the water damage. Score! But wait, there are surcharges? As you know, I pinch pennies when I can and the word surcharges does not ring well with me. Initially the date my farrier can come out is questionable but later he says he can meet me the next day, in the afternoon. I plan on duct-taping Lim's shoe to her hoof when I see her in the evening. She is on stall rest but you never know with these Thoroughbreds.
Cut to Monday evening.
My car starts.
Lim's shoe is so badly skewed that the nails on the medial side are prodding her sole. I have never pulled a shoe in my life but I need to do it, and now. Armed with loaned tools, I put Lim's left foreleg beneath my knees. The "farrier position" is surprisingly comfortable once established but I can see anyone with inferior thighs screaming for mercy a few minutes into this pose (mine begin to whimper five minutes in).
Cut to a half hour later (still Monday evening).
Lim’s shoe is off and her foot is clean and nestled within a tidy styrofoam shoe for protection. I know her left fore isn’t made of fine china, but it’s worth a million times more.
I worry about the feed.
Cut to Tuesday morning.
My car doesn’t start. I cab it to work. My farrier is going to be at the barn in the afternoon and I plan to take a cab to the barn. I laugh for several moments at the idea of this. My brain is close to breaking! At work, I tell the secretary about my lack of car and much to my surprise, she offers to give me a ride to the barn in the afternoon. Really? That would be awesome! Thank you!
Cut to Tuesday afternoon.
Lim has a shiny new set of aluminums. The “barn manager” shows me a place I can put my feed, a new place that will stay dry in the wettest weather. I walk home and love it; it is a gorgeous day. Not a single cloud in the sky!
When my husband arrives home at 4, we try starting the car. It works! We had decided beforehand that if it starts, we will drive it for a long while to ensure the engine dries out. We drive to the feed store and pick up four bags of fresh feed for Limerick.
Cut to this morning.
My car works, Lim’s feet are trimmed and shod, and she has 200-some pounds of dry feed. The sun is out again and will be for the week, and the apartment management is finally fixing those damn gutters. And last, my brain is back to being (semi) content.
Sometimes the simplest things are all that matter.
No comments:
Post a Comment