Changes... I see changes...

Used to be when I bedded calves out there, I'd struggle to heft and tote two flakes of those huge-assed bales of straw. (One bale of straw (or hay) takes up the entire bed on the old flatbed out there. They are BIG.)

They're unwieldy to begin with. Plus, heavier'n a I don't know what. Even if you could get 'em folded in half, they're still a challenge, right?
Ohhellyes.

Well...

Since I've been workin' at the horse farm, heftin' this huge bucket of shit into the spreader about 35-40 times a morning (cleaning 16 stalls), I have gotten STRONG... like I used to be.
My shoulders, biceps and forearm muscles always feel kinda tight anymore, but I just thought it was fatigue or something.
It's not.
It's strength.

I was just out there bedding calves again.
First time since I started over at the horse farm. (Started the restaurant not too long after the horse farm and that made it all but impossible to help out out there, but.... I'm baaa-aaa-ack... and then some.)
Anyway, I went out there to bed 'em, wound up feeding them first, then surprised my own self by being able to carry two flakes at a time, folded in half even, WITH ONE HAND!!! Balanced like a serving tray, they were.
And, it was EASY.
Except for alla the farkin' goddamned straw inside my clothes.
GodDAMN, I like that. (That carrying that shit was so easy, I mean, not that I have about half a bale of straw inside my shirts...)

Also, I thought my jeans were kinda "big" when I wore 'em to the restaurant.
I was right.
Dear Lord GOD, please let me be able to get back into my 29" waist jeans again.
Without Ephedra.
By WORKING it off.
Maybe that way, it'll last, ya know?

And yeah, I know... muscle weighs more than fat or some danged thing. So, the fact that my arms and upper body are coming back from the "near dead" means that, if there was a scale in this house (which there's not), the numbers may not change much, even though my pants are so big now I can pull 'em off without undoing them. *grin*
That's fine.
It's never been about numbers with me anyway.
Hell, I know what looks good and what looks loose and fat and sloppy.
I just want "good".
Well... actually, I want "real damned good", if I may, please.
I want my 29's back on my skinny (yet muscular and toned and shapely) lil fanny.
It's getting so that both me and Eric could fit into these snowmobile pants I wear everyday.
I might wind up needing to do a few situps or something to target my middle, but, hell... I can do that.

Now... if I only didn't stiffen up like a dick OD-ed on Viagra every time I sit down for more'n five minutes...

'Course, that may have something to do with the fact that I've gotten, maybe, 6 hours of sleep since Sunday and alla that on the livingroom floor....

After I quit the restaurant on Sunday, I came home and started to clean the house.
It'd been a week, so it was slow going, at first.
I could hardly tell where to start.
But, I got it goin', then got a coupla hours on the floor, then went to the horse farm.

Now, the reason I knew it'd be okay to go on and quit the restaurant was because, on Sunday morning, talking to my horse farm boss, he told me my hours would be increasing. Not by much, but enough to make up for the restaurant (fuckall, I am sick of typing out the longassed word. Yet another good reason to have quit...).

That very morning a few colts got moved around, meaning there are a few more stalls to do now.

So, I found that out, quit the foodplace (*grin*) and came home to take back my house from the creeping clutters.

I made a tiny dent in it all, fell out for a few and went on to work at the horse farm again.
Got home yesterday (today IS Tuesday, isn't it?) and started in again on the house.
Plowed straight through it all until it was done. And, I mean COMPLETELY done, too.
Up to and including rebedding the animals cages, taking Donny Duck (and no, not "Donald"... Donny... as in "Osmond") for a swim in the bathtub, popping the dopey parrot his popcorn and just EVERYTHING.

In the middle of alla this, I was also cleaning the stupid coffeepot with vinegar.
Got it as far as starting the second pot of rinse water. While it was supposed to be doing that, I went with Eric to do the horse stalls at Larry's house.
Well...
All of the horses were still out. Three stalls were "kinda" done and everything needed filling. Plus, it was raining it's balls off and me with no coat 'cause it was "only gonna be a few minutes". Pft.
I also needed to run to the grocery store and Wallyworld.
So... we did alla that shit.
Got SOAKED bringing in all 5 horses, then went looking like a drowned rat to both stores. I didn't give a half a shit what I looked like. (Or smelled like, for that matter. I happen to LIKE the smell of horseshit...)
Anyway... come home, start dinner and discover the coffeepot has died.
Well fuck me.
Shit.

Guess what I got to do?
Go back to Wallyworld for a new coffeepot is what.
And, while I was that close, I also went back to the stupid grocey store for a coupla things I'd forgotten I needed the first time.

Get back home A-gain, eat dinner, clean up from that and that's when I did all the "animal shit" that needed doin'.

Again, passed out on the floor for a few hours and back to the horsefarm again.

Now, here's where shit gets iiiinteresting... again.
Remember that lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit motherfuckin' asshole from Friday night? The one who has a "get my ass beat by a CHICK" death wish?
He's back.

Seems the silly little bitch at the gas station tried to misdirect me by calling him Josh, when his name is actually Jeff and he DOES work here and he IS a bleeding asshole.
Oh, and there WILL be something done about him....
Anyway, I was about to make my left enroute to the horse farm this morning, when who should speed along and break traction and slide around the same corner, making a right to come here and almost hitting my car in the process, as I was waiting to make the left?
Yes.
That fuckin' jerkoff asshole dickhead.
After he made that little maneuver, I pulled a U-ey and came back here.
He passed me, headed back toward Larry's house.
I made another U-ey and away I go after him.
Of course, I wasn't going 610 MPH, so it took me a minute to get to Larry's.
He's parked in the driveway, waiting.
I pull in, put down my passengerside window to make sure it's the same fool and he approaches my car and askes, "Do you have a fuckin' problem?"
"Yeah. You, asshole. Just wanted to make sure it you was again before I turn yer ass in..."
"Oh", he bleats, "I'll make sure the cops take care of you, too..."

Fuck you, dickhead...
Da fuck's he gonna tell them? I won't "play" fair when he's tring to kill me?
Asshole.

I came on back here, went into the parlor where Larry and Eric were milking and told Larry that "that asshole I told ya about before is back. He's parked at your house right now..."

Then, another guy who works here pipes up with, "Yeah, Larry... it's Jeff. He told me about it yesterday..."

Then, I told Larry I didn't know if I should go call the cops, go to his house and beat the snot out of the little punk or just go on to work.

I took the third option, to give Larry time to handle this.
However, I did come in the house just long enough to grab my Pusser stick, just in case the cum-swallowing, mouse-dicked little putz wanted to "play" again.
It's still in the car.
Staying there til I get a resolution to this, too.
S'like I said... something WILL be done about him.
*weg*

And, ya know what else about changes?
Physical changes aren't the only ones I see.
My heart and mind are also "changing" about certain other things.
Like... "not existing", or the definition of "family"... shit like that.

Being a Bull, I'll take shit and take shit and take shit til one fine day, I have enough.
Then, I walk.
I go so far fuckin' away, whomever it was that hurt me so bad wonders if I'm even still alive.
Had this happen with a coupla boyfriends.

They'd indicated, in one way or another, that they were scared I'd be all "Fatal Attraction" on their asses or something when we broke up.
They had that idea or something like it and wanted to ensure I'd really be gone.
They usually accomplished this be being a total dick in some manner or another.
So... I left.
But, I mean really left their lives completely. As in: never heard from or of me again.
And, ya know what?
I never did miss 'em.

Sometimes, it may take forever for me to "get it", but, once I do, it stays "gotten" inside of me FOREVER.

Well... I finally "got it" about this one situation.
I've been sloughed off and hurt for the last time EVER.
And, ya know what?
Feels damned good to know it's over.
I mean, it has been for a really long time, but I just couldn't let go... til now.
But, I have.
I have to, before it does me any more damage, ya know?
It's just not worth it anymore.
I don't really like giving up.
But, in giving up this one MESS, I've gotten myself back.
Or, maybe it's that I've gotten myself for the first time.
Either way... I've had enough now.
Won't be going back for any more bullshit.
"And that's all I have to say about that."
(Lord, now I'm quoting Forrest Gump. This shit HAS driven me nuts(er).)

Peace, y'all...

Posted by: Stevie at 06:44 PM

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Posted by: haveayen at January 04, 2006 02:37 PM (KrZEf)

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