When Manure Hits the Fan

Well, that’s a paraphrase of what my boss says to describe the things that are happening. As I want to keep the profanity down, those of you that know can assume what it is that I’ve done.

This morning, the fencers were working and knocked a hole in the water line running down to the barn. It wasn’t such a big deal at first, but when it starts to get hot outside, you realize how much water is used for. So I felt like Jill without a Jack when I was hauling water from the only large trough on the farm back to the barn (for the horses to drink, nothing else…they have automatic waterers, which, of course, need running water to work). Five trips and I’m sure I could have done more if I had been more thorough. I don’t feel that bad about it though, as the water line was repaired not too long after I was done. My work was not for naught, though. Flambeau (one of the mares) drank about five gallons right away, and Luke (the big bay gelding) drank about three gallons. Must have been they were thirsty.

Patience said she felt sick today, so she didn’t do much of anything at the barn today, so Anna and I were left to our own devices. Anna rode a couple of horses and I cleaned windows (I’m not complaining – I’ve not ridden here yet). The ridiculous thing about the windows, though, is that, to clean them, you have to put your arm through bars that are spaced just far enough apart to allow your arm to fit through. My arms got a little raw, but looking at them now you couldn’t tell. Of course, they got filthy.

On the way home, I got behind a dump truck (on a two lane road where there are no passing zones). I had to follow him onto the ramp to the interstate. Which is slow, especially when I like to get up to speed as fast as I can. Anyway, I was trying to be nice and not tailgate him (which I managed not to do). We got to the interstate and there was a break in traffic, so I took the opportunity to pass him. I got just so I couldn’t see the driver anymore and he gave his horn a short honk. Not the kind you give when someone makes you mad. Don’t know what to interpret it as, but it sure was interesting.

Like I said, when the manure hits the fan….

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2 thoughts on “When Manure Hits the Fan

  1. When you were talking about following the truck, I was holding my breath, thinking that you were going to say that a rock came up and destroyed your windshield. I am SO glad that is not how the story ended!

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