Anyhoo...we normally have HOS (Farmer H's Oldest Son) feed the animals when we're gone. Since it was only those two critters, and they wouldn't require me to carry buckets of water as in the past, I volunteered. Farmer H has a big water tub for them now, and keeps a hose down in it, hooked up to the outside water spigot. All I had to do was turn it on as I walked past, and off when I went back to the Mansion. The dogs' food and water are on the back porch, right outside the laundry room door, so they were easy enough. And the cats' pan is by the garage door. It was really not a problem to dump two scoops of sweet feed for a goat and mini-pony once a day.
Or so you would think.
He's a cutie, that mini-pony.
I would show you a picture of the goat, but he's not as cute. He's bigger than the mini-pony. And I couldn't get a shot of his rectangular pupils for blog buddy Sioux. I know how she enjoys her goats. However...I WILL show you a picture of their food container.
Yes. That's a metal garbage can. It keeps the food dry and pest-free. However, Farmer H had to attach a bungee cord to each handle, to keep the food squirrel-free. They're scheming wizards, those squirrels, and can get the lid off. They used to do so regularly to the chicken feed can, so Farmer H kept a heavy metal auto tire rim on top of it. Uh huh. He's a scheming wizard at re-purposing items that other people might consider trash.
Anyhoo...on Wednesday, as I bent down to reach the dregs of the sweet feed with the scoop...I felt a twinge in my butt-back. The part of my back above the right butt cheek, but not quite over to my spine. YOWSA! That little twinge progressed throughout the day, turning into a sharp, shooting stab of agony.
I guess that part of my body is involved in just about every move I make. It hurts to breathe deeply. It hurts to cough and sneeze. It hurts to walk up steps. It especially hurts when sitting down and sliding behind T-Hoe's steering wheel. It hurts to get on and off the toilet. It hurts to sit in my OPC (Old People Chair), and arise from same, even though it has that remote lifty thing to tilt me up partway. Oh, and it hurts to lie on my left side to sleep, and to lie on my back to sleep, and to get into and out of the bed. The pain is not lessened in the least by aspirin, acetaminophen, or ibuprofen.
I told Farmer H about my debilitating injury on the phone while he was in Iowa, and he brushed me off with, "Eh. It'll be better in a couple of days." So sayeth the man who drove himself to the emergency room with a sore throat, and again with an earache.
No, I don't have any intention of going to the ER, or a
Welcome to Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Unofficial Club of Irritated Entities, nerve.