Slow goin’

This morning was a late slow going what lasted all day. Accomplishments as I want to chalk them up were few as I took everything on single handedly. Sheesh, loose one wing sure makes it difficult flying let alone taking off.
For starters, I spent the entire morning bent between PT, drugstore, and piled high chores. The loco barnyard standards out of the way, I was down the road to the little place in the hollow. Taking a hay bale with me (per-standard procedure) I left it at the gate Deere John and I going on alone to move the hay ring. Well, I got it moved, without emptying it out. I wanted to empty it out. Curses. Well I at least got the feeder’s bottom drags stirred up recreating new interest in the previous bales leavings. Accepting even a small accomplishment I brought in the bale I had left outside the front gate, them had a difficult time making my way back to the (moved?) hay ring (control feeder) To drop the new bale in it. The Cushman and I ran the fences prior to changing the ladies pasture. One obstacle remained. What was I going to give the continuously demanding mom in sickbay?
As I had had a brunch like breakfast having run late all morning I finally made my way to the shop. While driving I, sort of, come up with a feeding the cow hay solution. That have to be later. Meanwhile, I took up trying to fix Fillis’s lawn mower. Well I could try. What I needed was a carburetors’ gasket. Not knowing where it get one without an all day road trip I had decided to make it. A diamond shaped 1 ¼” x 2 ½” gasket with five holes in three different sizes. Was a challenge for a two handed mechinneck let alone a nixed hard and soft handed old galloot. For starters I placed and rubbed a piece of writing paper over the machined surface the gasket’d fit to establish a gasket pattern. The pattern made, I laid it over the gasket material and commenced to use varied punches to make the clean holes required for bolts, and fuel and air passages. May I say some punches were of the legitimate holt and adapted throat hole punching kind and another one a leather punch for the smaller fuel passages. I must say the repairs went rather well everything nicely going together as the machine should have previously. I dislike having to do a supposed bonafide repairman’s job over. Argh!
Having missed lunch, tiring easily, ready to come home, Bro’ comes up with a bunch of crap for me to do. I’m hungry, tired, mind slipping and his garage door opener needs a fixing. Cheese and crackers, his need is critical, only take a moment. Soooo, I’m On the ladder removing bolts in order to take the door opener’s drive down. Everything taken apart my merely needing the replacement part, it hasn’t been gotten out nor even made handy. Darn it, this ticks me off. Regardless I support the machinery while he fiddle-fumbles with what should already been out. By the end of my extended shop time, his eating up my well being we loaded out me a wagon load of hay. On that load was an even better solution to my haying the sickbay cow. Not all was lost.
Gad’s getting home I belatedly lunched. Feeling out of it I laid down for just a short nap. Over four hours later I wake sundown leaning on me. Evening chores otherwise light I still hadn’t settled the cows hay issues. Combining bottling the baby, graining mom, the cow busy I hayed her yard. All was good…except all those envious ladies outside the sickbay area demands to be let in fell upon my very selective ears paying absolutely no attention to them while I doled out the grain. (hehehehehe)
It’s late now, alls good , Shorthorn country’s at peace, my rattlers finally taken, and doctoring my injuries, I ain’t in the least missing that bitchy Holly having left us this afternoon rather than waiting until tomorrow. And, as it has worked out the Fuzzy Navel hour has closed precisely on time. BGKC.
Fernan