Holy cow, work has been pretty icky. I guess that's why they call it work. Driving home yesterday, my normally low blood pressure (at times almost dangerously low, so thank you, Cruddy Day, for boosting it up a bit) was anything but. The day had been a real stinker. To top it off, every driver on the road was aiming for me, and every single traffic light timed itself to hit red as I approached. I got grouchier and grouchier as I neared home. By the time I walked through the door, I was a ball of pissed-off hell-fire.
I took a deep breath as I walked down the hall. Tobi beat me to the bedroom as is his habit. He was ensconced in his bed with Lambchop tucked securely under his feet. I kicked off my shoes and sat down on the carpet to give him his quick five minutes of belly scratching and tug of war before I booted him back outside while I made my daily trek to the barn.
I pulled into the barn and heard several welcoming nickers. Ahh ...
I zipped through my barn chores: hay for everyone, stalls cleaned, and beet pulp readied. Sydney was the dirtiest he's ever been since I owned him, but even that couldn't chip away at my happier attitude. I scrubbed his back and girth area clean and saddled up.
Our ride went just like last week's did: A warm-up walk with my hands planted firmly into my thighs, pick up the trot with hands still at the thigh, and several changes of direction. I only needed to ride for about 20 minutes to get a nice walk, trot, and canter. We even managed a pretty decent right lead canter.
Life is pretty dang sweet.