Back when I worked for other people, it seemed really important to know what day of the week it was. How close are we to Friday and the weekend?
One of the greatest things about doing what I do now is that I don’t have to keep up with the calendar. The down side is that I seldom have any idea of what day of the week it is.
In my younger days, I could just get up and go in the morning. These days, not so much. Gotta have a little wake up time with coffee. Feed the dog and horses, brush my teeth, comb my hair.
The last thing I do is take my meds. Aspirin used to be enough; not anymore. There’s one of the “don’t kill me” pills, one of the “don’t kill you” pills and a big handful of the “don’t flop on the floor like a fish out of water.” I don’t know how I got here other than just bein’ hard to kill.
Thank goodness someone invented the seven-day pill dispenser with S-M-T-W-T-F-S on the compartment lids. At least now I get some kind of an idea what day of the week it is.
Now that I know about what day it is, it’s been great. Horses are all making progress, clients are happy, weather has been perfect and there was a semi-flirtatious conversation with the waitress at the cafe. “Nirvana” life is good.
When I get home, I see that my zipper is down or I’m dragging a footlong piece of toilet paper off a boot heel or I have one of those “ flapper” boogers stuck in my nose that comes out every time I breathe.
Humility; one of life’s more entertaining lessons.
The horses are gonna be here 60 days, so I’m bound to see the clients again. It’s 20 miles to the next town that has a cafe. Nothing left to do but just suck it up and face them all again.
Like I tell me, “don’t get greedy.”
And be sure to check your zipper, heel and nose ...
Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at firstname.lastname@example.org.