I know, according to The Mamas and The Papas song, "Monday, Monday", it’s suppose to
be "Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day". But, if they had the Thursday I had, they
would have changed the name of their song.
Thursday started out innocently enough. At 5 a.m. Lee and I jumped sprightly out of bed
to start the feeding. The song goes concerning Monday that "It was all I hoped it would
be." Well, I could have hoped for a lot more, such as sleeping in until 7 a.m., eating a
leisurely breakfast first before feeding the goats and various livestock, it not being pitch
black outside and using flashlights who’s batteries are never bright enough.
As for sprightly jumping out of bed, it’s more of a wish then reality. Staggering out of bed
and putting all motions on automatic so your brain can sleep a while longer is really what
we do. Feeding was proceeding along when Lee said, "I’m getting a migraine."
Lee has had migraines all of his life. Some say it lessens as you get older, but it hasn’t in his
case. Allergies bring them on. He is allergic to certain foods (greasy foods, high fat foods)
that force us to actually eat healthy. He is also allergic to horse dander, dog dander, cat
dander, everything but goat dander. He’s allergic to old dust (I only keep new dust in the
house) and molds. He’s especially allergic to fragrances, such as colognes and perfumes.
That’s why I am forced to buy the very expensive unscented perfumes.
Lee hurried to the house before he became totally blind from the pain of a migraine, and I
continued the feeding. Finally, everyone was fed and put in whatever field they were
suppose to be put in that day. I checked my watch to see if I had time for a bowl of cereal.
I had an appointment that day to pick up sawdust and I tried to be there as soon as they
opened for business.
I love using sawdust/shavings for the horse and goat stalls. It’s like kitty litter, very
absorbent and helps cut down smell. We use it all the time except during kidding. It can be
messy for a doe then and we use hay in the stalls at that time.
The weather said showers by noon. I could get there in plenty of time, pick up the sawdust
and get home before it rained. No problem. I was so confident in that weatherman that I
left my rain gear at home instead of throwing it in the truck.
As I drove down the road I noticed it was staying dark longer then usual. Then I noticed
the clouds, dark, ominous, pregnant with water (hey, I read literary novels, too). Looked
like a cloud burst at any second. Oh, dear.
When I got to the company’s office, it was just starting to sprinkle lightly. Nothing I
couldn’t handle. I hurried and paid for the sawdust, drove around back where one of the
men loaded up the truck with a bobcat with absolutely the best looking shavings. The
sprinkles were coming down a little heavier.
Just as he finished and went back into the building, WHAM! A tremendous wind hit, water
came down by the tub fulls. I’m hurriedly digging out my tarp from behind the truck seat to
cover the sawdust. Wrong tarp! I’m suppose to have a neat little 8x10 tarp, already set up
with strings to tie with and it was gone! All was there was a huge tarp that I couldn’t even
guess its size and no strings attached!
I always carry hay ropes in the truck. I snatched them up, dug out my Swiss army knife,
and started cutting and tying on strings on this huge tarp. The wind is bringing the rain now
in great waves. I feel like a ground surfer as I fight my way to the side of the truck to throw
the huge tarp over the sawdust racks.
And, it’s not just wind and rain I’m fighting, it’s sawdust. My sawdust being scooped up
out of the truck by this giant invisible shovel and being thrown all over me and the front of
the truck, plastered down by rain, and then another scoop thrown all over me and that
plastered down yet again.
I could feel my hair being lifted up by the wind, getting totally soaked by the rain, and then
matted with sawdust, layer after layer all over my head. I felt like I had the teased beehive
sawdust hairstyle. And then it would get wrung out by the wind, washed by the sheets of
rain, and started all over again. I was in the Twilight Zone.
I had to save my sawdust! I gave a mighty heave to throw the huge tarp over the sawdust
racks. The wind caught it and threw it back at me, totally wrapping me in tarp. Those few
minutes I fought my way out of it I was dry. Small consolation. I was losing sawdust!
I dragged the huge tarp to the back of the truck, climbed up on the bumper, and flipped the
tarp out again. This time the wind caught it just right and blew the tarp out straight. It
looked like I was trying to put sails up on the truck to cut down on diesel consumption. I
quickly tied down the back end of the tarp while it was flapping furiously over the sawdust
racks. I retrieved each string I could and tied them down, slowly working my way around
the truck. The whole thing looked cock-eyed, but what was left of the sawdust was
protected from wind and rain.
I tied the last string and the rain instantly quit. Just like that. A gentle breeze started
blowing, still overcast but no torrents of rain, not a bit of the cyclone wind was left. I stood
there dripping in my boots, staring open mouthed up at the sky.
Soggily I climbed into the truck and started the motor. I was wet and cold. I flipped the
heater on high. I slowly pulled out on the main road and in seconds the insides of the truck
was fogged up like I was raising a tropical rain forest. I flicked on the defroster, blasting my
wet hair and face, still having to wipe the window every now and then; it was so steamy on
the inside of the cab.
Five minutes past the place I had got sawdust, I noticed it hadn’t rained in that area. I
couldn’t believe it. I had got drenched just a few miles back. Needing a few groceries, I
stopped at the first store in Ravenswood. I squashily hopped out of the truck.
The truck was coated with sawdust. I peeked into the side mirror and saw a face not too
dirty, but the hair. The hair had dried into sawdust layers, poofing the hair up high, one
layer of sawdust, one layer of hair, one layer of sawdust, one layer or hair, add water, dry
with a truck defroster. I think you get the picture. I dusted my face off, shook my clothes
out, gave up on my hair and marched into the store.
The clerk was certainly a polite person. She gave me one startled look, particularly at my
hair, and mildly said, "You got a little sawdust in your hair." I thanked her and asked if it
had rained here. "Not a drop," she said.
I sighed and paid for my groceries. I drove home and as I got out of the truck in my still
soggy clothes, I saw Lee’s grinning face at the door. He was feeling good enough from his
migraine to greet me. He burst out laughing. It certainly is nice to bring laughter to a sick
person. Right.
Thursday morning you gave me no warning. Thursday, Thrusday, can’t trust that day. The
Mamas and the Papas really should have named that song Thurday, Thursday.
THE END
