Sunday, July 14, 2013

Making Hay and Storing Hay.

So a lot has happened and I meant to write separate posts about it but then I started putting the slats on the sides of the hay storage shed, but then I was so busy that I could only put a few on a day and it felt like I was making no progress and there was never a convenient time to write about it.

Mostly I was putting them on myself because Scott was trying to fix our old/new car and that was more important then putting like, a billion or so slats on this thing because we need to be able to get back and forth to work and shit.

Anyway after what seemed like forever in which it kept raining and I couldn't make hay and we kept treating the cats eyeballs and the car kept demanding that we replace all the oxygen sensors and the office was not giving us enough work I think at some point I finished the damn slats and then went and had some sort of quiet nervous money based breakdown in the woods where I reenacted that scene from Gone with the Wind where Scarlett holds up that motherfucking turnip and yells at the sky that with god as her witness that she will never be hungry again. Except being me I just cried a whole lot and yelled a few obscenities at the sky and then fell back to worrying that I am going to freeze/starve this winter.

It was all a little fuzzy.

And of course the cats eyeballs are still shitty and we have to keep treating her and I feel like I might have more luck just rubbing hundred dollar bills on her eyelids at this point but whatever. Oh and it seems like a bunch of shit like corn and beans that we Scott planted didn't come up at all because ha ha fuck you and your shit dreams Holly.

Sorry. I'm a bit bitter. Here have a picture.

This. This looks like Tim Burton made it. I am absurdly proud.

So in the midst of all this we had three sunny days coming up. Or at least not rainy. So we made hay. Sorry I mean Scott had to take the car in and get new expensive ass tires and I had to make hay. In which Holly was haunted by the ghost of back injury's past, and also haunted by by the fact that when you run yourself to nothing and life is grinding you down like the rocks at a sea shore suddenly finding you have to make two meadows of shit balls thick hay yourself until your man gets back is like trying to climb Everest while wearing tennis shoes and a swim suit made out of tissue paper.

Whenever it felt as though I couldn't go on I would go back inside and drink tea and sharpen my scythe. At one point all I could do was drink tea and lay on the floor and stare up at the ceiling fan and pray that I could find the energy from somewhere to get back up.

I am telling you all this because those of you who have called me a badass and said that am I super strong amazing person with a work ethic the size of Texas were totally right, but that doesn't mean that I don't break down and end up laying on the floor trying desperately to will myself to get back up and go back to work even though I feel like everything is turning to ash in my hands the harder and harder I try to hold it. 

 I'm human too you know.

And then Scott got home and I made him get his ass back in those fields despite his feeble protests that he had just got home and had a sprained ankle and it was alike 86 degrees outside. So then we finished the field I was working on and did most of another and then I had to stop because heat exhaustion is a thing that I get very easily now and I think I was getting it.

Of course I didn't let that stop me because I woke up at like 6:30am the next day and cut as much of the meadow as I could get done before the sun found me because I am not going to let a pesky thing like possible illness fuck me out of my goddamned hay.

Also throughout all this I painted the damn storage shed with occasional help from Scott when he had the time.

Shapow! Motherfuckers.

Then I went and passed the fuck out and took a day off to just touch up the paint job on the shed and make cookies while the hay was drying so that all I have to do today is bring the hay in. Which of course it's going to be much cooler today because the weather just likes to fuck with me.

But I am stupid excited that I did my goddamned homework and get to put the hay INTO A SHED and not under a tarp in the middle of a field. Because putting all your hay under a tarp and then having it snow a shit-balls-ton was the most not fun thing ever. Like, oh I know you just shoveled the driveway and the paths to all the animals and the porches and around the wood stove shed, but here you go shovel a slippery ass tarp off in crotch deep snow. And don't forget the wind is a motherfucker so you'll have to do this again tomorrow.

Mostly though because it cut unacceptably into my Skyrim game.

Also I felt really good about my decision making skills when Scott came home and told me that everyone else was making hay too. Because I have only been doing this a few years and the rest of these guys have been farming for like ever, and that means that I win at hay making. I think.

In conclusion, yes even I too have days when just getting up off the floor was the hardest thing I have done in the history of ever, and yes I really did construct an entire hay shed to give me more video game time in the dead of winter, and it's all okay now because I have cookies. And that when life has kicked you right in the lady lips and has you down the best thing to do is give it the finger until you can stagger back up and punch it right in it's smug lifey face.

And tell it Holly sent you.


  1. Would it be inappropriate to say "I thought it would be bigger?"

    It looks very good and in December, in the dead of winter, you'll be even happier!

  2. Wow. You actually got a lot done.

    All I did over the last few days was poke my fingers at my laptop, over and over and over. Sometimes I wiggled my mouse - which isn't a euphemism. I think I need some of your jaw-clenchin', teeth-grittin' determination.