The Motel 6 Hiroshima Event

Well, let's just say we'll try to put this week behind us, shall we? Exhausting/emotional/difficult...there is just no proper adjective to describe it. Aside from the poodle health issues, work was crazy, the weather was funky, I was not sleeping enough, and I was just plain cranky. Then Thursday came and just blew it all to hell.

Thursday part 1: I like my job enough; however, sometimes working within a very small group of people can make you wacky. When there are very few people, the work should be *shared*. Everyone pitches in and does their part, right? One person, who shall remain nameless and I will refer to as simply WTC, felt a significant imbalance in the workplace pie, so to speak. "Wait!" cried WTC, "My piece is way bigger than his...I can't eat all of this!" Get my drift?

Thursday Part II: My part-time horse-exercising job was in upheavel most of the week b/c a horse trainer from Germany was visiting. Having her at the barn meant several thousand other people at the barn...everyone was taking lessons from her (excepting me, remember I don't have a horse!). Instead of OZ (the horse I work-with in order to get some free riding time) and I having our quiet discussions on life, we were squished in the barn aisle (not an easy task since OZ is about 8' tall) and forced outside for our lunging exercises. I was also unable to saddle up my trusty schoolhorse and ride for Olympic gold because the indoor arena was jam-packed with German trainers and students. I felt like the poor pathetic wanna-be as I longingly gazed at the students, their beautiful horses, and their precise instruction by the visiting trainer. Def. not good for the ole morale. On the way home, I was feeling very down on myself and decided I should just quit this riding gig because I will never be good at it nor do I have any hope for getting a horse in the next 6 mos, etc. etc. You know how once you get started on the POOR ME thing it escalates until you are convinced you are a complete piece of shit...that is where I was namely because the drive home is about a half-hour and that is plenty of time to descend into the depths of shit.

Thursday Part III: The Bomb
Enveloped in my World of Shit, I arrived back at the Motel 6. It was about 9 pm, I was feeling miserable, I had not eaten since noon, and the only parking place I could find was in the next *section* of the complex. There must have been a party happening and I was not invited...tons of cars! I lugged my gear (backpack of clothes, saddle (unused!), etc. to the apartment. H was just home from working on the house...I would venture to say he was feeling the same as I. The discussion went something like this:

WTC: Hi
H: Hi
WTC: Have you eaten?
H: Nope.
WTC: Want some cheesy soycrisps?
H: Nope. I think we are going to have to stay in the Motel 6 until August.
WTC: I think I'll fix a drink.
H: I talked to the drywall guy today and he can't get to us until the end of May so everything is going to be pushed back. We won't be in the house until at least August.
WTC: I think I'll just sit here and drink.
H: I knew you would be mad.
WTC: I will sit here and drink and die my slow death.
H: It won't be that bad.
WTC: I will sit here and drink and die my slow death never having owned a horse.

So, here we are, anticipating an entire summer in the Motel 6. This adventure in living was supposed to end in MAY. Then JUNE. Then JULY. Now AUGUST. On the upside, there will be oodles of blog material. The pool is opening at the end of the month! I was still trying to wrap my head around the extension of our stay when H informed me last night that he had a bit of a heart to heart with the drywall guy. I believe he may have mentioned the *Sheila* (how the heck do you link those, anyway?) incident...so the guy is going to *see what he can do*. Keep your fingers crossed, people.