Wednesday, February 15, 2012

What I really do.

There are all these photo montages going around Facebook of "what my friends think I do" "what the world thinks I do" "What I really do".   Someone posted the one for "equestrian" on my Facebook wall and it was actually spot on.  For "what my friends think I do" it has a picture of a little girl on a pony laughing, and for "what the world thinks I do" it showed a little girl on a rocking horse.  For what I really do it showed someone mucking out a stall.  The "what I really do" could've been a photo montage itself with photos of mucking out stalls, sitting around with ice packs and heating pads, and standing in the aisle way with a rearing horse trying to get him to go in the wash room.

It also occurred to me that I could put together one of "what my co-workers think I do on the days I'm not at work" and "what I actually do".  What I actually do is a long list of "try to catch up on ..." from horse care to pet care to daughter care to cleaning the house to getting the cars tuned up, fixing anything that's broken, paying all our personal bills and reconciling our accounts, helping friends in crisis, doing all the coordinating for holidays, parties for the girl, sending out family birthday cards and thank you notes, and volunteering at the school, and babysitting when a friend needs it last minute and ... I don't even know.  I am never caught up.  I said off-handedly to my husband this morning "I think my co-workers think when I'm not at work I'm lying around eating bon-bons so if they need something from me on a day I'm not at work they think I should easily be able to do it immediately," to which my husband said, "I actually think that what they think you do is ride your horses bareback in the fields," and I said "Followed by rainbows?" and he said, "and butterflies."  Sigh.

So, I have fifteen minutes before I have to go meet the farrier for Girlfriend and right after that the vet for Toad (whose foot has not heeled well from last week's cut). Then I have to rush home for a phone interview then get my daughter to piano.  Aaaargh!

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