It’s 3:30pm, and I’m only just now sitting down with my iced coffee, which I started fixing* around 8:30am. The morning was spent at my favorite store, Tractor Supply. I can walk in that store, and before I get fifteen feet inside, I’ve already found seventeen different items to buy, which I’ll try to balance while holding Levee’s leash. All stores that allow dogs are my favorite stores, but Tractor Supply is my best favorite. Ye ken?
The air conditioner for our office room, the room where I spend the most time, pooped out almost three weeks ago. Apparently there is an air conditioner season, and we are no longer in it, so finding a portable replacement unit will have to wait. It’s a beautiful day today, but for the last few weeks it’s been in the high 90s. High 90s is unbearable when the sun hits the back of the house. I don’t know if it plans to get back into the 90s, but it’s always best to be prepared. So say the Scouts, and so say I. So, while at Tractor Supply, we bought a giant wind tunnel maker and set it in the hallway where it can whip every bit of dog hair onto my desk. I don’t care about the dog hair as long as I can get up from my chair without producing a sticky thhhllloooop sound as the leather peels from my legs. I’m lying. I care about the dog hair. Random wisps of dog hair have me dramatically blowing them away like Gimli with the Oathbreaker mist. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know I know you know.
We also bought an obscene amount of dog toys. It’s important to make sure she has a variety. There are toys that squeak when the squeakers are punctured, toys that float, toys that produce animal sounds when stretched, and toys that come with a magical bottle cap inside that turns all water bottles into squeakers! Does she need all these toys? Yes. Does she recognize and appreciate the differences? No. Does she carry them around, regardless of their attributes, as though it is her job to keep each beloved toy above the lava that is the ground? No. She only carries the snake. The rest are simply things she’ll grab as she makes her way around the house, looking for the snake.
Aaand, we bought cattle panels, or feedlot panels. On April 8th, 2015, I wrote about how we began repairing the barbed wire fence that was partially flattened. We did attempt to put up welded wire fencing, but we didn’t have the posts to pull it properly, so we rolled our fencing back up, and there it has stood for over a year. We started talking about our options the other day, and cattle panels came up. They aren’t cheap, but they are sturdy. We grabbed a ton of the panels, which each weigh approximately a lot, but that’s okay, because I wasn’t lifting them, along with a gate. We trucked them home in the nice rent-able utility trailer and dumped everything out by The Shed. Now, because we’re not procrastinators, we’ll get to that tomorrow. Maybe. It’s supposed to storm, and something like that could potentially set us back another year or two at least.
*Fixing, in this context, is Brian’s southern contribution to my vocabulary, ya’ll.
The Last Cowboy Song
by Ed Bruce