mending fences

so it wasn't me she was referring to, the owner, i mean. it was my girl (may as well have been me). she (my girl) had misplaced her crop and was scouring the lounge (or the room that reeks of ammonia with a couch in it--hence, the name, the lounge), looking for it when the owner saw her, then my girl remembered she'd left it with the instructor's stuff in the other barn. and off she went.

it didn't occur to me, the connection between the cowboy ghetto and this lady. as i walked around the place, i was so smitten by the natural beauty of the place, i didn't really pay attention to every fence being in need of repair.

today it hit me.

i'm having trouble with someone who doesn't know how to mend fences.

i hope i have learned to take the time to make things right. to repair that which provides boundaries and lines of demarcation.

but then again, who knows.

this week took it's toll on me and yesterday's bright eyed and bushy tailed employee has faded into a do nothing, stand around and zone out employee.

i need to go to bed now. i open the store at 6:30 then back to the farm at 3:30. i am not sure when i get rest, sometime next week, i hope. if i remember to schedule it, that is.