It is Monday morning, post Turkey Day weekend. After a long holiday weekend I had looked forward to an opportunity to get to the barn and ride and possibly work off some turkey and dressing today. I had some pent up energy to burn and felt the pressing of the lack of time to ride from last week.
I looked out the window to see the sky to the east and was sunny and full of promise for a nice day of riding. The western sky though was a deep periwinkle blue, which made for a nice backdrop to the remaining colored leaves but looked a bit more ominous. That blue then invaded and spent a few hours heavy with rain. Rain mostly departed, but the sky has remained dark and gloomy and not worth the risk to get my lovely Stubben saddle soaked.
My daily life here on the farm generally revolves around what the weather is doing at the moment or is going to be doing. If it is nice then the first thing I like to get done after coffee and animal feeding is to work the horses. Some days that includes riding all three that are working under saddle. I also try to get ground work/manners basic in with the two 2 yr silly fillies. All this is dictated by priority of which one needs the education/exercise the most, and what kind of energy level I feel. If its like today and the weather directs me elsewhere from the barn, then I attack the most pressing thing that hasn't gotten done for a while inside the house.
Today's goal was try to figure out what the heck was going on with our sleep number hammock/bed. It seems that the middle of the bed has recently lowered to a good half foot below the edge and won't re inflate making a good night sleep absolutely impossible. That turned into typical series of events loosely involving the initial purpose. The bed got taken apart. The sheets got washed, vacuuming done behind and under the bed, sorting through the pile of magazines and books on the floor, and dusting, a bit of internet research on sleep number bed pumps, and more dusting and multiple trips to the trash can. There also was the underlying frustration tape running about how I wasn't doing what I wanted or felt the need to be doing at the barn with the horses.
After realizing that I had worked myself into a good little frenzy on this multifaceted mission and letting my stress build over the idle ponies out there munching their hay, I thought, "Where is the cleanup police and where is the barn gestapo? " There isn't anyone pressing me for the speed cleaning award. I am not a clean freak. I like clean, but when there is so much else to do, then why obsess about getting it all done now? Whether I get three horses worked today or not will also not go into the history annals and they certainly won't care.
So it may well be another decade before I go on a cleaning rampage and who will notice or care. I doubt there will be writing on my tombstone about my not being a great house cleaner. I will just have to be hopeful and patient for a nicer day tomorrow or some time soon, to enjoy a day at the barn. For the rest of this day I may try to be a bit more like Memphis, the white lab in the header shot. That dog understands what our dear late friend Emmit Patton used to say when things got dicey and stress levels were edging upward. He would just smile that wonderful smile of his, and say "Maintain Margaret. ( or to whoever he felt needed the prompt)... Maintain."