Saturday, August 25, 2007

Drowning in Air

Crossing the yard was like walking underwater through a tropical fish tank. Every breath felt like drowning, like I was sucking murky, overheated water into my lungs. I had to fight the instinct to try to raise my head upward, trying to find where the AIR was, instead of this heavy, almost-liquid stuff I was breathing.

The sheep lay in their pen panting like dogs, miserable in their heavy wool coats. The horses were cranky and damp, with white streaks of salt from the day's sweat striping their backs and rumps. In no mood for loving small talk from me tonight, they laid back their ears, swished their tails, and snapped at each other, waiting for their evening feed.

It had been over 100 degrees all day, with humidity levels through the roof. I had a million things I should have been doing. The sheep need worming and another vitamin drench, the paddocks need mucking out, the housework has been too long neglected, I should have been posting more items for sale on EBay and updating my horse for sale ads.

But just as I couldn't catch my breath in the thick air outside, today I couldn't seem to get my head above my overwhelming "To Do" list enough to make any progress.

I hate that the house is a mess, that the farm is a mess, that the animals are cranky, that our finances are crumbling. But just for today, I couldn't force myself to dive in and tackle the tasks that rise up so obviously to my attention whenever I look around.

When you run a farm, there is never a day off. So every now and then, my inherent laziness rises up in protest and demands that I waste an entire day doing something completely meaningless. I guess that's my way of catching my breath when the responsibilities start getting too thick.

So, today was one of those meaningless days. Ken and I ate junk food and lounged around in the living room, playing with the puppy and watching old episodes of Friends on DVD. Light, frivolous, and cheerful, all around.

The chores will still be there tomorrow. By then I hope to be able to breathe easier again.


Mark said...

Good for you! It sounds like a good mental health break anyway. If we were able to develop a matter trasmitter, I'd pop in to give you a hand - I've still got the opposite problem, too much time on my hands. Hang in there Nancy. The summer is on the wane. Cooler days ahead.

Nancy Chase said...

I wish you could come visit us someday. Too bad you live so far away!

I think the break yesterday did help, because we got a lot done today.

That's the thing about farming: there's no end to the amount of work. So at some point you just have to say, "I'm taking a break now," or else you'll NEVER get a break.