Time. Time can do strange things to a person. I’m talking about the lack of time. A happy, calm individual can suddenly go ballistic when they realize they are running out of time for something. I turn into what I fondly call the Screaming Banshee. Oh, I’m not screaming on the outside, I’m screaming on the inside. I picture this wild eyed, wild haired woman, running at top speed, screaming the whole way “Gotta hurry, gotta hurry“, inside me when I am running out of time.

I goat farm full time and everything, I mean everything, pertaining to goats is set up on a time schedule. Oh, the goats can blow the whole schedule out of the water any time they want, putting me behind schedule, but usually things run on a time table of what field or pen gets fed at certain times, who gets water at a certain time, who’s time is it for worming or shots, when is breeding season, when is kidding season, and then throw in bottle feeding, the schedule can get pretty crowded. If you are off by a little bit, it throws everything late and you find yourself still working at nine and ten o’clock at night and you still haven’t had supper.

But one thing I insist on is that the bottle babies get their bottles at a set time, four times a day and then they are not stressed as to when they are getting their bottles and having health issues because of the stress. My babies know when exactly they will be getting their bottles, so to them, life is good.

Yesterday morning I planned on making a quick trip over to Wal-Mart to pick up whole milk for the goat kids, a few groceries for us, and a prescription. This was one of those great $4.00 prescriptions, Mobic for arthritis, that Wal-Mart sells. Okay, so I’m a gimpy running Screaming Banshee on the inside. The pharmacy opened at 9 a.m. and timing it just right, getting the grocery shopping done just as the pharmacy opened, I knew I should be back in time to bottle feed my kids at their ten o’clock feeding. No problem.

I finished my shopping and I was right there in front of the pharmacy at a minute to 9 a.m. The people were inside their caged fronts pottering around and at 5 minutes after 9 a.m. they were still inside pottering around, ignoring me. I was barely containing myself from rattling their cage when finally a woman rolled the cage up and accepted my prescription.

“How long will it take?” I asked. I could feel the Screaming Banshee inside me start trotting in place. “Twenty minutes,” she answered and then very boredly turned away.

“What????!” my Screaming Banshee said inside me, “Twenty minutes!” my Banshee shouted, “I’m the only one here. Twenty minutes?! What have you got to do, eat breakfast back there? Oh, probably have to cook it first, too?!”

I calmed the Banshee down and thought this could work, I’ll just go check out, load everything up in the truck, and by the time I’m through, the prescription will be ready. I turned and pushed that cart at full speed, with it clacking up a storm. I don’t know about your all’s Wal-Mart’s, but I think every cart in the place is on the verge of a flat tire, if that’s possible, by the way they clack at every turn of the wheel. You know exactly where everyone is at in the store who has a cart, because you can hear every cart just clacking away.

One time I got a cart, which I didn’t notice until after I had got it fully loaded, that on the handle, under my hands was a note, carefully taped in place, “Cart Out of Order“. What? How does a cart get out of order? It either pushes or it doesn’t. And, what was it doing in with all the other carts, ready to be used? Talk about a nervous visit to Wal-Mart, wondering if my cart was going to suddenly go berserk and careen out of control.

I hurriedly pushed my clacking cart to the garden section. Why there? For some reason, early in the morning, our Wal-Mart usually only has one or two checkouts opened and they are the ones for ten or less items. The ladies at the register are usually very kind and wave me through, but the looks from the people who are hurrying to pick up one or two things before work, well, I could relate. I can recognize Screaming Banshees inside others too.

For some reason, early mornings the garden section is not busy and there is a check out person always there, though she almost faints when I appear with a cart loaded down with dog food, cat food, groceries, ten gallons of whole milk and whatever else I threw in the cart when passing. Usually I can also park the truck close to the garden section that early in the morning, not far to push the cart, particularly when it is pouring down the rain, and get things loaded into the truck.

Checked out and bags in the truck, I charged back to the pharmacy where the girl handed me my generic Mobic and I handed her $4.00. Neato, but time was a wasting and sunlight was burning, and the Screaming Banshee inside me was at full throttle, galloping in place to make the feeding time of the bottle babies.

And, did I speed on the way home? Absolutely not. I may have a Screaming Banshee inside me telling me I’m running out of time, but the tight wad, I mean frugal person, had her under control. It was the speed limit for me. Always obey the law, plus on the interstate, if not crowded, I go 55 mph because a study had come out saying we could increase our mileage by 20% if we went 55 mph. Hey, the tight wad, I mean frugal person, had that Screaming Banshee by the cuff of the neck, making her save money. I made it home in time to feed the bottle kids and they told me all was well with their world.

Then, the Screaming Banshee noticed the time and said you need to call some people back, but it was time to water the girls in the upper pasture and check them over first. Also, more things on the list to do today, so the Screaming Banshee just said …..