Working Girl

Sometimes on Sunday mornings I get paid $10/hour to shovel horse shit. This is substantially less than I get paid to shovel academic shit, but I enjoy it more. There's something I find uniquely pleasant about being up early and working so hard that I'm ravenous and stinking of horse by lunch time. The only drawback is that Sunday afternoon flyball practice keeps me away from Deroche until 4:30, at which point the February daylight is rapidly fading. Regardless, I still had an hour this lovely evening to begin detangling Tonka's tail. For the past six weeks I have left it as a few dreadlocks of hair dangling around a mass the size of a dead rat because I've never had a block of time to dedicate to its cause. I got it about 90% finished today before he got too fidgety (he stood so patiently while I hauled on him), and he swished it around appreciatively when I finally lay down my comb. The fullish moon was on its way up as he was on his way back out to the pasture.