Phew!

Finally Friday.  I don't think it hit me until I just sat down on the sofa to watch the news. Five work days.  Five rushing around making sure everyone is emptied, fed and watered. Five days of what the heck and I going to wear and is it clean. Five days of do I have enough gas or time to stop for more. Five commutes 50 miles back and forth - in great weather thank you Lord. Five days of running across the parking lot and calming myself as I walk in the door to make it look like I got there then minutes ago and was just chatting with people in the hall.  Five days of what to do with all these art classes ranging from six to eighteen year olds.  Five days of special ed paper work to do.  Five days of always smiling and never, ever revealing your true feelings about kids and co-workers.  Five days of worrying about babies being born under a cold window and mothers ignoring them.  Five days of wondering if a goat with long mohair got caught on a nail and panicked. Five days of what do I need as I'm leaving civilization and driving far out into the country where everything, except the tiny village general store, which is six miles out of my way, is a half hour away.  Okay, don't get me wrong.  I am so thankful for my job.  I love my co-workers who are the most genuinely nice, caring and totally down-to-earth people.   Sure there are things I hate, which I cannot let pass my lips or fingertips, but isn't every job that way?  If I didn't have my job there would be no paying off the carding mill today so I can get my wool shipped to me for Maryland Sheep and Wool.  They took more than half my pay, but that's my fault for not getting it washed, dyed and dried sooner.  It will be slim picken for the next two weeks, and I have to figure out how I'm going to get to Maryland with all my loot - on a wing and a prayer maybe?  If it wasn't for my job I wouldn't have four lovely green and delicious bales of hay in the back of my blazer for the sheep and goats.  I'm not buying any more of that lousy hay from the dairy farmer.  My feeders are crammed with sticks that are no good for anything but bedding and my sheep are getting way too thin.  I confess I let them out to graze yesterday.  There is a little grass and I decided to let them have some before they get too weak.  Thankfully I'm not lambing.  Took the doggies up to the top of the hill - our spa treatment - and back down.  Don't know what I'm making for dinner.  Spouse always expects something.  He's bringing me Starbucks for a payday treat.  Going out to dinner is an impossible dream during hay-buying time.  Don't even think about it.  Maybe if I do well at Maryland Sheep and Wool I'll treat us to Frank's in New Berlin.  The news makes me sick.  Chechnians? What the heck is wrong with those kids who came here, got visas, got scholarships.  My father and his family came here from Sweden where they were poor as church mice, got jobs as domestics and carpenters, and wouldn't even speak Swedish except for whispering in the kitchen.  They were so proud to be Americans.  When my father became an NYPD cop they had arrived.  They had a US civil servant in the family.  That's enough of a rant.  No babies in the barn.  The ladies are liking their special treatment in the maternity pen.  I'm afraid they will hold on to those kids until the night before I leave for Maryland.  Was hoping to get them born and settled before I leave spouse in charge.  He will have his hands full as it is.