Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Things Happen when my Husband Isn't Here.

Okay, so it's raining. No big deal, right? Wrong.

Went to feed horses, got them in and all cozy and hopped on the Gator to take hay to the run-in shed. Had my rain hat on, gonna make a quick dash. Shouldn't get too wet. Then, what do I see? A snow drift blocking my way! I live in the South, we aren't supposed to have snow drifts. My husband is out of town, everything happens when he's gone, so I'm getting a sneaky suspicion he's conspiring with the Gods. He wants me to miss him.

This drift is from all the snow sliding off the barn roof. Hmm, I say. I won't let this stop me. Revving the engine, I slam the Gator into 4-wheel, lock the differential, and gun it. Up we go on top of the snow and there we sit. It's stuck, it's pouring, and I'm screwed. If my dear Hubby were here, he's big and strong, he could push me out of the drift. But, like I said, he's gone, to sunny Florida no less.

I put the Gator in reverse. Wheels spin. Try forward, again. Nada. I step off into the drift. Ice water enters my shoes, pours down my neck from the roof. I use the manure shovel to dig out the tires. My husband could do this in two scoops. Me, it takes twenty. Try again. Nope. The belly of my mechanical beast is suspended on the mountain of white.

Frustration kicks in. I stomp the gas. Snow, ice and mud covers me from head to toe. I twist the steering wheel, try again. Now, manure joins the mess. I drag out mats, wedge them under tires, rock and roll the Gator. We move an inch. Okay, I'm missing my husband.

Soaking wet now, I lug the hay by hand out to the run-in shed. My dear husband always carries it there by hand. But, like I said, he's big and strong, and in FLORIDA.

Horses look over their stall doors, nice and cozy, but curious as to what the idiot is doing. I lose a shoe in the mud, find it and watch muck ooze out as I re-insert my foot. The Gator, I think, is watching me. It's motor idles, as I've left it running and in gear, hoping it would do something like leap off the drift. It sits, still as its Southern namesake, on the bank. Have you ever seen one of those things move? The ones with scales live in Florida, where my husband is.

Thirty minutes and ten pounds heavier from water soaked clothing I win! The Gator is free and back where it belongs. I feel like a champion.

When my husband calls tonight and asks about my day I will tell him this. I climbed a mountain, slogged through a swamp, wrestled a Gator. Things happen when you're away. I won't ask him how's Florida. He'll just say the sun's shining. I will tell him I miss him. After all the Gods are on his side.


Ethel said...

Hi Deborah,
I suppose it is good to know you can do anything, but even better when the person in Florida is there to do it with/for you...
I'm so happy you included your blog address. I didn't know you had a blog, but now that I do I will be a follower!

DeborahB said...

Why thank you, Ethel. You made my day.

J.C. Towler said...

Good golly girl, was falling off the horse not enough adventure for you? Trying to scale Mt. Everest in a Gator...whew.

Glad you made it. Glad it was a funny story when all was said and done. Prop your feet up by the fire, dry off, and celebrate with the vintage of your choice. You earned it.


DeborahB said...

Ha, thanks John. You serving the wine? :) And, thanks for reading.