to think of myself as a "tub half full" kind of person.
I admit it, I suffer from Hose Rage.
people have Road Rage.
I have Hose Rage.
is the day to dump the big water tub, scrub and refill it. Like most horse
owners, I do it every few days to keep it fresh. Such a soothing job in
Not so in January.
August you can hose the hay chaff off your arms, legs, and feet. The
result is cooling, soothing and you
so, this morning, I set out to tackle the hose and the water
tub. First of all, over my first cup of coffee, I discovered that the
connectors were all frozen solid, so my teenage daughter lent me her state-of-the-art hairdryer before she left for school. After 15 minutes of
standing on my head holding said hairdryer on the faucet, I finally got to do the "Lefty Loose-y"
thing and rejoiced when the hose ends were finally freed from the tap.
The blood is just now returning to its regular places in the rest of my
unthawed, I wrestled the five and a half miles of hose into the kitchen so
they could warm up (with me) beside the woodstove. This sounds like a fun
and easy aerobic morning activity, but it wasn't. It was a marathon
of sorts, keeping the two cats from blasting out the door while I exercised a
variety of original swear word combinations and waved my arms hysterically
at the would-be feline escapees while wrestling a giant frozen snake between a
screen door and two wooden doors.
patience meter was in the red zone by the time I finally shut the doors behind
the stiff coils of black rubber and the cats were bug-eyed by
my erratic behavior.
got the whole thing inside and made a cup of tea to soothe my irritated nerves.
annoy me at the best of times.
to wind up by themselves and can take on a life of their own if you turn
your back on them.
takes a sailor's strength and coordination to get the things back on the hose
matter how long I manhandle 'em, they always invent some kink that
sends the rest of the hose haywire.
you leave them out on the driveway for even a minute without supervision, they
manage to get themselves run over by a well-meaning visiting neighbor, friendly
Fed Ex driver, or enthusiastic CMP meter person.
require constant supervision.
long-suffering horse-husband has an amazing knack for repairing and
rejoining hoses because, thanks to me, he's had a lot of practice.
and hoses don't mix.
and hoses don't mix.
and hoses, well, they don't mix either.
Doug can always patiently mend, reconnect and add to the smooshed and
morning, after all the cursing and uncoiling, I finally managed to unthaw and
unwind the whole nasty, black mess. As I scrubbed the tub just now in The
Big Chill of this bitterly cold January day, the sun came out and made me
think how fortunate I am to have such a wonderful stream of fresh water
bubbling through the hoses that had ticked me off earlier.
horses came over and dunked their hay and slurped and slooshed around
in the trough as if to say thank you. They too are grateful.
the cats, after checking that I was not completely insane, are now laying by
the woodstove, lapping up the dribbles on the kitchen floor.