What a weekend

Sunday Wic was putting hay on the ground, and Jeanne3 and Dave “volunteered” to go with me to pick it up.  That was pretty uneventful.  We met at the barn, drove over, picked up hay and filled the bed of the truck and the trailer.  There were still 27 bales left in the field, so Dave and I went back in my big truck to pick those up.  No problem.  Weather was nice, no one got heat stroke.  All good.  Since Ron wasn’t there to work the hay elevator, I covered up the trf truck and drove mine home with the hay still on it.  I figured we’d get it all done Monday morning.
So Monday I get in the truck with Enzo, and we head for the barn.  The truck promptly dies and refuses to start.  I was on a hill, so I put it in neutral and rolled to the side of the road at least.  I called Dave, who was at Twyman’s barn taking care of David B’s horse, and walked Enzo home (he is now more lame than usual today).  Dave gets there and says it is the fuel pump.  Okay, I run his car home to get the little truck to unload the hay while Dave calls the tow truck.  Two runs in the little truck and I have a lovely pile of hay in my drive.  Of course, this hay wasn’t baled too tightly, so the more we handle it, the shakier the bales get.  More on that later.
I had called Ron away from his Memorial day party prep and asked him to get Patrick’s guys to unload the trf truck and trailer, explaining I was stuck by the side of the road.
I called Roman and my barn volunteer and explained I was going to be late.  They got the barn done.
I got to the barn, swapped the little truck for the now unloaded trf truck, and went back to get the hay in the driveway.  Lots of driving Monday morning.  Or not driving, depending on how you look at it and which vehicle you are talking about.  I was in four different trucks before noon.
The were loading my truck on the tow when I got back, so I stopped and gave Dave a ride home so I could coerce him into helping me load the hay one more time.  He’s a good sport, so we get that done.  The bales are starting to get a little loose, but we think we have them stacked pretty well, and tie them on.
I get two miles back down the road and the load shifts.  Bales break.  Rope Slides.  Boom!  Hay all over the road….  Greaaaaaat.  ring, ring, ring.  Hello, Dave?  He comes back (so much for his day off)  and we get it all back on for what, the fourth time including the little truck transport?  My back was going into spasms.  We tie the crap out of it and I do manage to get back to the barn.
Nancy was waiting for me, and insisted I ride since she had them all ready!  Ordinarily, I would have been thrilled, but I couldn’t even stand up straight!  So we threw them all back out and I just gave up and went home.  Spent the rest of the day drinking wine and popping ibuprofen in my splashy pool.  $450 dollars later, my big truck is back on the road.  Crike.  So much for the slush fund I was building.  Won’t be hunting this year, again.
Of course, three days off meant Flash was an idiot, and before he dumped me this morning I went to preemptive lungeing.  It worked.  Mostly.  I lived to type this, anyway.  So that was my crazy Memorial day.  Dave did cook a lovely dinner on the grill, which I ate with a side of ibuprofen, and went to bed.
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