An Evening In The Life

Sheesh, beware when clicking buttons to see what they do on a new computer. I just spent the last 5 minutes in Microsoft hell just because I clicked a button in the toolbar that LOOKED as if it was the full monty of an Office version of Word. NO. It wanted me to set up a trial version of Word. There went 5 minutes of time that I could have been typing from the comfort of my own soft bed.

You see. I have a new laptop. We’re in the middle of a horrible storm, complete with dime sized hail that soon made the entire desert look snowed upon. For the first time in my computing life, I didn’t have to shut down the computer and twiddle my thumbs for several hours until there was no longer a danger of power outages and power surges. I could still play solitaire. I could still play Diablo II, albeit in single player mode. Heck, I could pop a movie in the DVD player of the laptop and watch a movie if I so desired. But no. I decided I’d put my time to more creative uses and write a bit. I didn’t realize I’d spend 5 minutes of comfy, writing time trying to get the heck out of a set up program that doesn’t allow a person to exit until the final page where MS finally provides a CANCEL button. I also didn’t realize that on top of that 5 minute trip through set up hell that I’d feel compelled to spend another 5 minutes bitching about it.
Hell, the storm is over now and it’s getting damned hot in this bed. As Charlie Brown would say, “Good Grief.”

It’s Thanksgiving evening. I should never have waited this late in the week to clean house. I have at least one guest coming to dinner tomorrow when we have our traditional Thanksgiving with recognizable foods, in the country where we can sprawl outdoors. At least, I hope we can sprawl outdoors tomorrow. The weather has been fairly nasty for two days.

Anyway, I have to clean furniture, mop the floor, straighten the office, do dishes, dust, dump the litter box and cook a turkey, dressing, peas, rolls, mashed potatoes, and sweet potatoes. Oh. Also need to make iced-tea. Somewhere in all that time I also need to doctor the feet of the horses that have had to stand in sopping muddy stalls for two days. One of those horses already had a foot problem before his stall flooded. All in this life I want to do right now is sleep off the in-law family Thanksgiving dinner I ate this afternoon. Again, good grief.
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Well, that was entertaining. I went outside to invite a little fresh air inspiration and heard the otherwise “dry” wash not running, but roaring past. As I was registering that problem in my brain synapses, our neighbor Doug called, “Are you alright down there? I have 6 inches of water across everything up here.” These are not words I want to hear. Doug's property isn't adjacent to the main wash. I'm where everyone elses water runs AND I'm adjacent to where the main wash makes a 90 degree turn.

Now, John had been out to check the barn and the horses and the runoff situation just after the hail stopped. Everything was wet, there was hail in poor little Godric’s stall, the muck was just deeper in the two already wet stalls, but all the horses were dry. If the wash was running, it wasn’t running enough to be audible. The rain stopped, we went about our business, until I went back outside searching for inspiration. Be careful what you wish for.

After the call from Doug, I sent John out to check the wash. It’s topped the bank behind the back corner paddock and is pouring into Handsome’s playground. The only thing keeping two stalls in the back barn from flooding is the dip William dug to lead other people’s roof runoff floodwaters through the back of the property and out into the wash. I’m afraid I’m going to find not the usual three fence lines undermined in the morning, but rather multiple undermined areas in 4 lines of fencing.

Yanno, I’m thinking that when the housing market rebounds I’m going to plop a For Sale sign in the front yard and head for higher ground. This sucks Beavis. Next time anyone tells me how much we need rain I may spit in their eye.

John has gone down to Doug’s house to see if he can help down there. At this point, there is nothing anyone can do for us except loan us a few horse trailers to pull our hooved kids to higher ground. We’d sink any tractor we tried to get out there right now.

What I need is a damn dam damn it, one made of concrete. Yet again, good grief.