Farm Fresh Blog

Woman Logic
 
Other Half has only been gone for over a week and a half. In addition to juggling work chores and farm chores, there have also been the emotional ups and downs of dealing with The Enforcer's kidney failure.  This has led to me being an occasional Cranky Pants Bitchy Bear. Some days are better than others.  This is an account of one of the "others."

Go to bed early because I am attending a mandatory class that starts at 8 AM. Wake up at 1 AM because The Enforcer is throwing up.  Clean it up and go back to bed.  Phone rings at 4 AM.  Other Half is calling to wake me up so I can do my chores before I leave the house at 6 AM. Although I am happy to hear his voice, I am MOST UNHAPPY that his voice means I have to get out of bed, tromp out in the cold, and feed the animals.

Walk through laundry room and remember that I put ALL the towels in the washing machine the night before. I FORGOT TO PUT THEM IN THE DRYER. It is 5:05 AM and there is not a dry towel in the house.   Oh joy.  Put towels in dryer. Decide that SOMEHOW Other Half must be responsible for this. This is Woman Logic.  If things go bad, somehow, some way, some man MUST be responsible for it. Since Other Half is not home, it is easy to blame him for EVERYTHING that goes wrong around here now.

Consider calling him at 5:07 AM just to wake him  up and inform him that he has ruined my day because I now have a boob smeared with cold chicken grease and NO dry towels.  Decide against it. I don't have the time.

Take shower. Dry off with hand towel. (Little hand towel + Big Butt = Pissed Off Woman)
Walk into bedroom. Old Police Dog has stepped in dog poop outside and tracked it through the doggy door,through the house and into the bedroom.  Oh joy, joy, thrill, thrill.  Clean up floor.  Clean up paws. Clean up dog bed. The Enforcer throws up again.  Clean that up too. Consider throwing up myself.  Consider calling Other Half to wake him up and tell him that this is ALL HIS FAULT for leaving me for 3 weeks.  Decide against it.  Don't have the time.

Gather purse and race out door. Wonder if I smell like dog poop. Step out back gate and stumble in a hole the size of a moon crater that Briar has dug. Turn ankle.  Cuss.  Consider calling Other Half to wake him up and tell him that this is ALL HIS FAULT for leaving me for 3 weeks.  It is 6:30 AM.  Decide against it.

Get in truck and head toward the Big City. All goes well until I reach The City Before The Big City.  That's when the tail lights ahead of me just stop. Surely this couldn't be happening.  There are tail lights as far as the eye can see.  Was there another hurricane evacuation that no one told me about???  Yes, that must be it.  There must be a hurricane in February and everyone in Texas is moving north to Oklahoma.  Oh joy. I was going to be late.
All "The Powers That Be" in Homicide will be in this class, and I am going to be walking in late. (yes, I AM in Homicide too, but I am not one of the Powers That Be.  I am one of the people who play Twister over Dead people.  We have no power.) An HOUR AND A HALF later, I slink into class like a whipped dog. No one notices or cares. (YES!!!!  God DOES love me!)  By 11 AM I am asleep.  How do these people actually work on day shift?

Make it through class and head back home. Call Dear Friend and chit-chat with her all the way home. Thank God she has AT&T too or we would both run out of phone minutes the first week of every month. Give her every agonizing detail of my life of juggling chores and trying to keep The Enforcer alive.  She reciprocates with details of her life and I feel better.   (You see! Women don't have to SOLVE each other's problems, they just have to LISTEN to them! Then everyone feels better - especially the men who DONT have to hear the women in their lives gripe in detail about their problems!)

Get home to find that I have a package.  A package???  A PACKAGE???  For me???  It is from Other Half.  He has sent me a precious card, a beautiful ring (the right size!), chocolate, perfume, and a PAIR OF LEATHER WORK GLOVES!!!  Wooo hooo!

He calls later and I happily gush about my package.  He gets excited."Did the gloves fit?" he asks. (Not "Did the ring fit?")

I point that out.  He laughs and informs me that the gloves are more important than the ring because they are WORK gloves and I NEED them to work on the farm. Hmmmm . . . Man Logic. While it is true that my other gloves have holes and I DID need new gloves, it still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling to know that I have a new horsehoe ring under those leather work gloves. 

And THAT, friends and neighbors, is Woman Logic.