Tuesday, October 31, 2006


So I'm at the barn yesterday visiting my long-lost horses... I'm at the barn a whole 10 minutes. I enter the tack room to discover that some newcomer has usurped my position. Apparently, the dust on my saddle was a signal to this person that the owner of the saddle (me) must not ever really use it, and probably doesn't actually come to the barn, therefore the owner (me) won't even notice that the saddle has been moved and the tack box shoved rudely out of the way of the newcomer's e-NOR-mous monstrosity of a tack trunk, therefore the newcomer automatically has the right, without asking, to relocate the owner's (MY) stuff as they see fit.

This involved moving my 27-pound western saddle from the lower rack (where I had it because it's too heavy to lift otherwise and because I actually like not having back trouble) to the rack above and putting their own saddle on MY rack.

OK. So I was a little bit busy this past summer taking care of my parents... but I am NOT one of those once-annual boarders (the ones who only come out on vaccination day and otherwise forget they even have horses) and I do NOT appreciate having my stuff messed with and nobody saying anything to me about it.

I tracked down the barn manager and politely inquired about the relocation that had been done. I was given a new spot to move to with a lower rack (the barn manager is nice and understood the summer I'd had). Thus began the process of moving my stuff to the new spot. This meant getting the 27-pound saddle off of the high rack above my head without having it land on my head. I lifted it up with a groan. I prepared to hoist it. I hoisted and lost my grip on it.

Twenty-seven pounds of leather and wood came crashing down on my right index finger, trapping it between the saddle and the 2x4 that served as a saddle rack.

All I can say is OUCH.

Being a true cowgirl, I checked it out to make sure it worked (it did... mostly), got some ice, and went on about moving my stuff then spent the afternoon playing with one of my horses. On the upside, having to behave so gingerly with that finger really improved my lightness when Porcupining my horse at Phase One.

I've no idea if it's okay or not. I'm playing it by ear. It doesn't hurt unless I use it (so, don't use it, ha ha) but it looks bad and it isn't working quite right (typing this is a real bear). Needless to say, all knitting is temporarily suspended (and just when I finally get on the Grey's KAL) until finger notice. Uh, further notice.



At 12:05 PM, November 01, 2006, Blogger Mother of Chaos said...

Ow. Ow ow ow ow ow ow. OW!!!

The newbie must have come from the same kind of barnyard I once (when dinosaurs roamed the earth) worked in. Honestly. There were times when I wanted to set up a spy camera so I could catch the little "I dunno" ghost who was always moving this from here to there...leaving ropes tangled up on the floor...shampoo bottles in the fly spray cabinet...curry combs hung up where the ropes ought to have been...grrrrrr...

At 4:00 PM, November 01, 2006, Blogger Jeanne said...

LOL! Yes, it's universal. The tack fairy comes to the barn at night and rearranges everything. I'm beginning to think there's a benefit to individual tack lockers with LOCKS on them. I don't mind if they ask first before borrowing my other saddle or shampoo or halter. It's just so many think, nobody's around, they'll never know... so you're a horse person too? Cool!


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