OK, so I get up Mon. morning and figure I can cut some hay since the weather finally looks like it's going to cooperate. I need a few things so I make the 30 minute trek into town and pick them up then come back work on some equipment, fix a few things and finally latei n the afternoon I'm ready to hook up the mower and go cut hay. It's really too late in the day but I do it anyway.
I get up early in the morning and find that here it is mid July but we had a heavy dew anyway. I wait as long as I can to ted the hay, cause it really should have all the dew off it before getting tedded, but I have to get satarted by 9:30 because I have a 12:30 apt. with an oral surgeon. So I kick the wet hay anyway and head into the city and make the doctor appointment. I spend the rest of the day fucked up on valium and who knows what else after having an insanely impacted and incysted wisdom tooth removed that should have been removed 20 yrs ago.
So I crawl out of bed this morning and go looking at the hay and see that it's a bit damp, but since my step mother-in-law died last night and I have to go to the funeral three hours away tomorrow I really have to get it done today. I wait as long as possible. . . again I've got to go into town and pick up fuel, some horse feed (hate those fucking horses) and stop by Sears and grab some of the free pallets they have out back their store to lay on my barn floor to stack hay on.
I finally make it back by 3:30 and begin raking hay at around 4:15. I get done at 6:15PM and get out the baler and begin baling. . . I left out the part where the creek crossing to the field was washed out and spent many hours fixing it to the point where we have a precarious crossing to the field through a couple feet of water. . .
So because I rushed the baling, the hay is a little too damp and keeps breaking baling twine, then my baler breaks a bracket holding up the uptake axle so I fix it twice with baling twine, the knot tying device fucks up twice, the inlet get's choked a couple times, in other words, everything that goes wrong does go wrong at least twice till finally, the bracket for the uptake axle can't take the strain anymore and the pulley chain breaks rendering my baler useless with another 75 bales still not baled.
I'd had enough and headed back to the house to nurse my hugely swollen jaw that looks like John McCain's ridiculous hugely swollen jaw. It's been a long few days and tomorrow a funeral.
I told my neighbor to come get the hay that's left in the field. I suspect he'll bale it up and leave a good portion of it for me.
He's a nice guy. It's good to have nice neighbors.
See, I don't do personal shit very well. I'd also like to slap the shit out of anyone who would take even 3 seconds to feel sorry for me or offer me sympathy, so fuck any of you who do.
Go ahead, feel sorry for me. I live in paradise. When I'm not here I'm in Florida at our winter house driving my boat around.