Monday, July 28, 2014

whine whine groan moan

It's pre-fair week. I am nothing but a puddle of whiiiiinnnne.

I was feeling all in control for most of the day, like I had a prayer of holding it together.

The vet visit, required to take livestock to any sort of fair gathering, that I almost forgot to schedule? Done today, with minimal fuss thanks to my wonderful right-hand middle son, and all animals given the green light to take a little trip in four days.

Laundry? Three loads, including sheep coats (taken off the sheep on shearing day back in March) in preparation for the sheep beautification projects that need to be undertaken this week.

Three knitting projects, submitted in April, that appeared in my inbox on Sunday to be proofread by Wednesday? Finished in the quiet of this morning and turfed back to the editor.

Legal work? Another project, almost done and ready to be sent on its merry way.

Then I hit 4 pm and the wheels came off.

I found out I have to work for my husband all day Thursday, a.k.a. fair set-up day, a.k.a. the day everything gets done for fair, a.k.a. it remains to be seen what the name will be this year, possibly "the day mom had a nervous breakdown."

Then I received a text message from Primo: his wrist hurt. Followed by a message from my husband: he was sending Primo to get an X-ray because he may have broken his arm. Long story short: it isn't broken, though it is swollen because he crushed it under a ramp at his landscaping job.

I nearly finished the breaking job an hour later, however. Seems he wanted a certain dinner, just not the one I was fixing, so he stopped on his way home to pick up dinner for him and his girlfriend. Then brought it home to eat, with us, at the dinner table, with his girlfriend. Needless to say, he never did ask what he could get for the rest of us. I spend entirely too much time these days trying to figure out where exactly I went wrong in raising him, then I remind myself that he is an 18-year-old boy and try to hope that it will wear off at some point.



The box of blueberries, spilled as I was rushing home with dinner for everyone else in the family, just about sums up the evening. I do hope the birds got to enjoy the berries before cars ran them over.

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