I haven’t written a post for a month (though I keep meaning to); I’m housesitting my sister’s place while she and her husband are on holidays (for two more weeks); I have to walk their dog twice a day on the beach, which probably should be fun but really really isn’t; and I should be feeling lucky I have somewhere nice to stay on my own for a while but instead I waft about all day feeling sorry for myself.
The dogs who chased Mister the rooster are back on the road.
While my parents were overseas and I was looking after their cattle, said cattle escaped so many times in the first week I had to put them all (or all I could round up) into the house/creek paddock, which did not have enough grass to support them. I’ve almost forgotten all the problems now, but there were many, and I worried every day for six weeks.
It’s winter, a season I usually love, but this year I just feel cold. The sun is already going down later each day, which seems sad. (I don’t love winter, but also don’t want it to end, which is stupid.)
I drive out to the farm each day to put the chickens in and out and let them wander around, and that’s what I should be doing right now, at 09:45, but instead I’m sitting here in my sister’s house, putting it off. I’m so so sick of driving. I hate everybody else on the road. And now that I’m in this house I have to use a part of the highway that has a 110km/hr section, and the speed just scares me witless.