It’s 8:30 and I’m still up in the office updating a spreadsheet. I know. I can hear Sandy laughing all the way from NJ: Only 8:30? Wimp! Okay. I’ll cop to that. I want to take my wimpy butt home and go to bed (yeah, that makes me old. I don’t want to go dancing or to a bar or a movie or anything. I’m beat. Besides, this is Orange, VA we are talking about. There are no movies, and no dancing. There is a bar, though. Four actually. And the town is only a mile long. Tells you something, no?). Another no riding day (a lot of those lately).
Tamio came to trim at 9, was done by 11:15 (he’s fast) and the vet was supposed to be here to do teeth at 12. She got held up and didn’t arrive until 1:30 (so I painted a couple jump standards lime green. Pretty cool, until I went to clean up and discovered it was NOT latex paint. I still bear a striking resemblance to Kermit the Frog). She finished at 4, and I turned several of the horses back out into the big field before my knee gave out again (yeah, old) and the heel to my hiking boot fell off. Well, it is a mile out to the field, and a mile back if you have to go find the darn beasts (2 miles if you have to walk all the way to the very far end). Ron took pity on me and put in an extra gate at the bottom of the field so that when I turn them back out, it is only a little less than a half mile walk. There. A little less than a half mile back. Montpelier is so spread out. Yesterday it took all afternoon to bring six horses to the barn, and I was really feeling like I was getting absolutely nothing done, until I realized I had to walk about 10 miles to bring those stinking six horses up to the barn. Those sissy vets better start learning how to float teeth in the field!
So that’s my very tired rambling for this evening. All the horses seem to be okay except the ones that are very angry about being dragged away from their buddies to get metal stuff shoved in their mouths. I think they’ll get over it, though. They usually do.