Who remembers that book from when we were little - Alexander's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day?  As I sat in the farm snow bank last night, I kept thinking of him and the writing exercise my sixth grade teacher had us do....should have just stayed in bed that morning.

It seemed simple at first.  I was tired.  Understandable, given the hours we're working around here lately.  I rolled out of bed at 7:25...I have to be at work at 7:30.  Now, I work from home, so this isn't as horrible as it sounds.  I hurried through the, pee, wash face, brush teeth routine, and as I finished my brushing the phone rang.  I knew it was my husband calling to let me know when he would be home that morning.  I ran for the phone and sat on the edge of my bed.  Cordless phone in one hand, I grabbed my Tootsie Roll Yoga pants off the bed post and attempted the one handed 'let's get dressed' dance.  My foot refused to move freely through the pant leg no matter how much wiggling, flipping and jumping...all the while a happy and awake husband on the line asking me what kind of sub I wanted him to bring home for lunch!

As my friends say...Poor Brett.  I snapped back at him, that what ever he got was fine, that I was running late, and I would see him later.

My day it self seemed normal.  Small problems and inconveniences, but nothing terribly troublesome.  I did my normal morning routine at work.  Left on my lunch for the stable, where I cleaned my horses stall.  I carried a fifty pound bag of grain from the car to dump into my bin, (pay attention to this part.  It's foreshadowing) then an equally as heavy bag of fresh shaving to lay in his stall.  Then I trekked my empty bags up to the dumpster at the top of the parking lot (I apparently am the only one that makes that journey, as everyone's else's empties just pile up in the barn.)  Mildly irritated by that, I got in my car and left....(more foreshadowing) only panicking for a split second when my wheels spun out on the crusted snow.  But I threw the car into reverse for a good rocking head start...and I was out!

By this time my husband was home, so I grumpily said hello to him, showered, ate my half of the sub and returned to work.  As the five o'clock hour drew near, I managed to find a way to continue finishing up my work and at the same time get my self ready for my appointment.  I ran quickly from my house at 5:00 and drove to my 5:15 acupuncture apt. in Washington Mills.  I got there at 5:17.  Late.  Joyce did not care, but being late bothers me, and I had to apologize.  What I really needed was the one hour she provides to be stuck with needles, and then lie peacefully to, as we say, "un-do."  It was great.

Back in the car, I headed for Arbys.  As I waited for my sandwiches to be made, I felt good.  I was relaxed, refreshed and I would be heading home to my family with hot roast beef sandwiches.  Back in the dodge on Genessee Street, my cell phone rang....I broke the law, and answered it.  I assumed it would be my husband, awake and concerned as to my where abouts.  Instead the call was from the Farm.  Stable owner, Julie had called to let me know that my 25 year old horse, Fox, had been cast in his stall.  (For non horse people, that's when they lay down in their stall in a position where they are unable to get back up.  He was too close to the wall and could not get his legs underneath him to prop himself back up.)  They had freed him and he was alright, but a bit stressed out, and she knew that he would be more comfortable with me there.  I was on my way!

In less then ten minutes I made my way back to Westmoreland, where the young lady that found Fox in his predicament, along with her mother waited for me.  I found him laying down again and uninterested in our presence.  His nostrils were sneered and he looked upon me with disgust, as he was not about to get up again.   It took some coaxing, but I finally pulled Fox to his feet and removed his winter coat.  Then I covered his sweaty body with a cooler, led him up to the big barn on the hill and walked him in the indoor arena.  We walked for a half an hour, very slowly.  At times he seemed awkward and his movement was displaced.  He looked to the sand quite a bit to roll.  That can be a sure sign of colic, but he also likes to roll in the sand.  The one thing I made special note of was his long squeaking gas...that's a good sign of a healthy horse.

Feeling certain that he would rather be brushed, I slowly led him back down the slick hill to our barn and brushed him from head to toe.  I left Fox loose in the aisle, without even a halter on...he never took a single step.  Instead, he simply stood with his one leg cocked and his head lowered.  I picked out his stall, then offered him hay, treats and water...but you can't make them drink...as you know.  He was uninterested.

I decided he was still not well, and carefully turned him back around leading him again up to the arena.  This time as we walked through the crisp out doors, he seemed almost worse with his footing (but again, uneven snow and ice, how do you know if it's him or the conditions.) He let out three good, nostril clearing sneezes and at last we were in the ring.  Walking through the door, was almost like he stepped through the gateway to a new world.  His eyes were instantly brighter, and his pace had quickened, his steps were more certain.  We walked
once around the rail, and as we finished our first circle, he lifted his tail and cleared himself out.  As if Roto-rooter had payed him a visit, and relieved him of his plight, he now seemed fine.  He took a treat from me without hesitation...my boy was back.  I walked him anyway for another 15 minutes before returning to the lower barn.  I dressed him back in his winter coat, and placed him in his stall, where he waited for more treats.  He even begged once, the way he does, while I tried to retrieve one from my pocket.  Then as I cleaned up the aisle way and turned off the lights, he went back to eating his hay.

Content that he would live another day, I ventured back up to my car and placed it in reveres.  I spun.  'You're kidding me,' I thought.  I pulled it forward to rock it again and then tried to once again back out.....I still spun.  I felt I had enough room to make the turn however, so I put the dodge back into drive, and made a turn across the peek of the small hill that is our stable parking lot.  I did not in fact have enough room, and drove into cusp of the giant glacier like pile of snow at the edge of the lot.  Once again in reverse, I figured I could back out easily and finish my rotation.  I was wrong.  With each forward and back movement I made, I became increasingly more buried in to icy snow banks until I was finally without hope.  I begrudgingly picked up the cell and called home.

My husband was on his way.  I set the phone down on the seat next to the cold roast beef, and thought about how I presently looked resembled living art....a portrait...A Postcard From the Edge.  Then my mind drifted to the fact that I had needed to pee since before I even arrived at the stable, but had had no opportunity.  Here was my chance.  I left the car running in the snow bank and trekked my way back up to the big barn.  I passed another border and told her of my no good, very bad day and that all I wanted to do now was go to the bathroom.  A few seconds later I passed her on my way out....there was no toilet paper.  She laughed.

I grabbed the shovel and started to dig myself out when the big red truck finally pulled into the parking lot.  I didn't feel too bad when my husband was unable to get the car out either.  Finally, I pushed a bit from the front as he wiggled it down the hill further.  Then I watched as he spun the tires on the ice.  Finally he got the car into a position to get traction and run back up the hill.  He waved as he drove right on by me and out of the parking lot.  I returned the shovel and made the decision to leave my horse and finally head home.

Life sometimes, more so as of lately, is like a carelessly cut thread.  It's slowly frays and unravels, and no matter how many times you try to clean cut or even cauterize it - it just frays again.  I smile and roll with the little
things, but sometimes you just have those days where smiling and attacking it with sarcasm just doesn't get you through.  I teared up on the ride home.  Mostly because I was worried about Fox, but also at the uncontrollable....all I wanted was a hot roast beast sandwich and my sofa.

Tomorrow is a new day.