I'm a military brat.  I was born on base in Germany.  I toss military acronyms into conversation and today, used "snafu" in an email.  Which.. got me thinking that I knew what the term implied, but I didn't know it's origin.  And, man.. it's today.

Situation Normal:  All Fucked Up.

Our house guest came in late last night.  We spend about an hour with me showing her the tiny apartment and me making D talk to her about what today and tomorrow would be like.

I'd seen pictures of her online and can only determine that she isn't very photogenic because she was really a lot more attractive than I anticipated.  And younger.  And blonder.  And tanner.  Dammit.

And it really was a swift kick to my ego.  I'm turning 29 in October.  I'm not a pretty young thing unless I'm compared to someone older.  Thankfully, she was incredibly pleasant.

I rode the horse last night for about twenty-five minutes.  BO was there and was about to feed and offered to give him a handful of grain "so he doesn't get too pissed off."  I replied that he could get pissed off.  Then I tacked up, mounted on the opposite side while she wished me luck that he wouldn't be too bad, and took him out to the front pasture.

And he was excellent.

To the point that she stopped in her walk through the pasture to her house to comment on how "square" he looked.  And how much he looked like a dressage horse.  I've never heard the term "square" in regards to a trot, so I just thanked her and kept him going.  She and I had a talk recently that makes me think that she thinks I'm bat shit crazy.  I was telling her about all the stuff I'm doing to get him more comfortable and to build up his muscle tone.  She doesn't really think any of it's necessary because he has such a big floaty trot when running around riderless.  Then.. I tried to explain that while it's big and pretty, he isn't engaging his back or his topline and it's completely hollow.

It was like trying to explain colors to a blind person.

When I was done riding, I took Arch over to the water trough to see if he would drink.. only to discover that the damn thing was almost empty.  So I dismounted, stuck the hose back into the trough, and turned it on.

Only to remember that it was on at seven this morning.

So, for nearly twelve hours, I was flooding the pasture.

This brings me to a considerable ethical dilemma.  Do I tell BO, knowing that she'll probably overcharge me?  Do I not tell BO, because she has sprinklers running every day over all six acres and probably won't notice? Do I consider this a lesson to BO to check the fucking trough daily (the other boarder filled it up on Monday)?  If she asks, I won't lie.  But I'm seriously leaning towards not offering the information because I don't think it'll matter in the long run.  I'm actually not even sure that she pays for that water service, considering that it's an old plant nursery and might run off a well.  It does this weird burble and spray thing some times that my water, a mile away and definitely not a well, doesn't..

Yeah, I was totally popping half a Xanax (a Xan!) on my way to work.  Oh!  That brings me to another thing:  I had lunch with an old high school friend yesterday and we were talking about her first tattoo.  Which got us talking about anxiety.  Which got me mentioning my Xanax prescription.  Which got her mentioning her anti-depressants and Xanax prescription.  Which made us both feel considerably better to be going through the same damn thing.

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  1. Oh good, I have someone to compare perscription stories with now :P

    1. I do love my anxiety medications. :) And alcohol. When do you find out about moving here?!