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I Work Hard! (by Susanna)October 26, 2006 I just started a new job. Love it. It's one of those books that interprets current events in the context of history; does it rigorously, readably, and with a sense of humor. Already Ronald Reagan and Oliver Cromwell have been juxtaposed with devastating and hilarious effect, and I'm only on manuscript page 42. I especially liked the part where the author pointed out that what Cromwell meant by an enemy's "interest in our bowels" is pretty much what we mean today by "fifth column." Maybe the Department of Homeland Security should be called the Department of Toilet Training. Anyway, by 10 a.m. I'd already put in a hour's work on the editing, and done two medium-size loads of laundry besides, including the very old, very worn set of sheets that I recently retired. (I'm keeping them in case someday I have a sleep sofa or an extra bed, or maybe I come up with some idea for a costume class that could use a purple-patterned sheet.) Then Rhodry started warble-woo-wooing with an enthusiasm that let me know that one of his favorite people was passing by. I set the editing aside and clattered down the stairs. Sure enough, it was Martha, who's been away more than a week helping deal with the death of a brother-in-law. She doled out treats to Rhodry and Gracie, her very small terrier, and we caught up. By the time I got back upstairs it was 10:35. At 11:15 my barnmate had a lesson scheduled on her new horse, Pernod -- who's currently at Netherfield, which is not only in Chilmark but way down a long dirt road. No point in getting back to work if I was going to have to interrupt myself to leave for Chilmark? No point. So I downloaded e-mail, took too long typing a couple of replies, and didn't manage to coax Rhodry into the truck and get out of here till about 11. Fortunately the lesson started a little late. I will never, ever be that good but I learn a lot by watching. On the way home I stopped by Campbell & Douglas, a local tack and feed shop, to pick up a couple of things. A woman whose path had intersected mine at Crow Hollow Farm a few years ago was there. I'd heard secondhand of some of the major events in her life -- she lost her lovely jumper mare to a tragic accident nearly two years ago, in the aftermath of the astonishing blizzard of January 2005 -- but we hadn't caught up in person. So we did. Seems she travels pretty regularly and could use a horse-sitter to look after her barn. I gave her my phone number. Thence to the post office. T.A. was sitting on a bench, reading the newspaper. (The Martha's Vineyard Times comes out on Thursdays.) She offered me a chunk of her brownie. We went over to the truck so she could say hi to Rhodry, whom she hadn't seen in a while. Jen showed up (hi, Jen!) and the three of us caught up and talked horse. It took me an hour and a half to get home from Chilmark. In island terms Chilmark is the other end of the world, but still this was excessive. It was past two o'clock. In these days of waning light, if I don't get to the barn by three, I feel rushed. No point in getting back to work? No point. I checked e-mail, won a couple games of FreeCell, brought in my dry sheets (left the heavier stuff on the line), loaded Rhodry into the truck ("What a good jumper!"), and headed to the barn. Did my usual stuff there, had a good ride, came home, brought the rest of the wash in, popped the cap on a bottle of Sam Adams, and downloaded e-mail. It really is time to get back to work. I really do like this job. But I am really glad that I can meander down the road and sojourn here and there with this one and that one, as long as the conversation lasts. Life is good. There may be a break, a big break, in the housing situation. I don't dare talk about it in public till I know for sure. I wouldn't trade my life for anybody else's in the whole wide world.
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