Just when I found myself in desperate need of some humor, this happened:
I was in the middle of cooking dinner and the turkey burgers were ready to be taken off the grill when I spotted a coyote in the arena.
While I was digging around for burger buns, my husband said, "He's found your pants."
I looked out the window in time to see the coyote happily rolling and rubbing the sides of his face on the old ripped blue jeans that I had tossed out into the arena for the horses to use for their games of Tug-of-War. I ran for my camera, turned it on, and attempted to zoom in so that I could get a picture through the window of the coyote rolling on my pants.
Just then the coyote grabbed them with his teeth and dragged them toward the gate. I frantically struggled with the camera, but it kept malfunctioning. In the meantime, I could smell the turkey burgers getting more well done than I intended. I had to make a choice: Continue to fiddle with the camera and hope to get a funny photo, get the burgers off the grill before they burned, or get my pants back from the coyote.
I burst through the back door and ran toward the coyote as it was running toward me. I yelled, "Drop the pants!"
He continued to carry them until he ducked under the gate to escape, and I think he stepped on the pants and that yanked them out of his mouth. He looked back as if considering to take a moment to grab them again, but changed his mind and took off running while I laughed at the absurdity of it all. I then cursed out my uncooperative camera, got the turkey burgers off the grill, and retrieved the pants, placing them in a safe place on the patio should the coyote return with his friends later that night.
The incident greatly improved my mood. I was beginning to feel like I was stuck in another bad luck rut. I had chosen to devote the entire month of April to riding horses before it got too hot to ride. I was determined to not let anything stop me, but here we are halfway through the month and I've only had a handful of rides.
First, there was a slew of unplanned appointments I had to attend. Then there was the terrifying hum of swarms of bees both in my back yard and out on the bridle trails. Then there were the house hunting Looky Loos who disrupted my weekend and the rain, which brought out the swarms of bees again.
Gabbrielle and I only got a short ways up the trail head before I had to turn us around due to the ominous buzzing all around us. She spooked all the way home, repeatedly looking over her shoulder for whatever it was she knew I was avoiding. That night I saw a story on the news about a couple who was out gardening when they got attacked by a swarm of bees. The woman got stung in the eyeball, but made it into the house. Her husband tripped and fell, and his entire head was covered in bees. She could hear him yelling for her to help. He died, but then was resuscitated and was in critical condition. I'm not exaggerating when I say these bees are a serious problem.
Then my plans were thwarted by the unexpected legal paperwork that I'm still struggling to get signed by a notary, because my stupid bank has to spend an hour chatting it up with each client while the rest of us are put to the test on how long we will wait for our turn.
I failed my waiting test and walked out, because I had a sick husband at home who was waiting for me to bring him some soup and cranberry juice. I also had a broken pooper scooper I had to replace and two yards full of dog poop destroying my olfactory sensibilities. By the time I got home, my husband was in such bad shape that I had to take him to the hospital. The E.R. doctor and we thought he was going to need emergency surgery, but they were able to treat the problem with drugs.
My husband wasn't even more than a few hours out of the hospital when the dishwasher and garbage disposal broke down simultaneously and I had a full load of stinky dishes that needed to be cleaned. I called for a repairman, who kept changing his mind every few minutes about what the cause of the problem might be. My husband said he'd fix it himself and sent the repairman on his way. I didn't want him to fix it, because he was sick, but he crawled around on the tile floor for hours until he repaired both problems. Now all we want to do is sleep. He's just exhausted while I figure that if I sleep, I won't know what kind of trouble brews around the corner, and what I don't know about can't hurt me.
At least the coyote gave us some comic relief. Hopefully, the second half of the month will be kinder.