Week in, week out. Concrete to pour and boredom to deal with. Sometimes the tedium got so bad that we were fighting over the most menial jobs at work just to keep occupied. The boss returned from a bush job and things got quieter. Then this week happened. One 3am start to travel over 300km to a station to pour a shed floor. Normal day Tuesday. 5:30am on Wednesday to pour kerbing 200km away. Knock off for me wasn't till 9pm after a veeery long day trying to keep the concrete wet enough to pour it. Today was a 5am start but better than yesterday. Concrete was wetter and the day wasn't as near as long but when I returned to the yard I was greeted with a little note saying "TRB wants concrete onsite at 5:30am, start 5am :o)" Smiley face my butt! Seriously, I need a break! I wanted to be able to start at a normal time tomorrow. No catch up on much needed sleep for me.
At least last weekend was spent actually doing something I enjoy. I finally got back in the cattle yards for the first time since September. I drove up to the Douglas Daly to arrive just in time for the Development Committee dinner where I caught up with friends and other people I hadn't seen for a while and also met some new people. Despite my exhaustion from the drive and working all day I didn't get to roll out my swag till about 1am to get some sleep for a 6am start in the yards. But that's fine... because I was BACK IN THE YARDS!
The second day was all over the place. First up it was dropping fences and setting up gates, then finally process some more cattle. After smoko I got sent out to set up gates and push up the tail with Doug in the chopper in a beat up Hilux reminiscent of my Bonalbo days (ironic that) as well as try and stand up a fence buried under half a foot of mud. My attempts to pull it up had Doug flying over wondering why I had no shirt on. Well, you know, lateral thinking, make the most of what you have around you. No chain? No rope? Use your shirt! ... It ripped. I am down one work shirt. It seems that this particular week was full of me doing dumb and senseless things. Not thinking before doing or in the following instance being to lazy to do something with interesting consequences.
As part of a Facebook group I belong to we had decided to do a Secret Santa where we didn't buy something for the recipient but make it instead. After changing my mind three times I finally decided on making a patchwork quilt. I sewed and sewed for weeks then finally I came close to finishing. So close that I was determined to complete it in one night. So there I was, climbing onto a dining chair looking up at the ceiling fan telling myself "Don't get hit by the fan" because I was too lazy to walk over to the dial only 3 metres away to turn it off. I'm standing there, on the dining table, shaking the quilt down over the wadding when WHACK! I get hit by the ceiling fan. I recoiled in pain on top of the quilt in disbelief that I got hit... believe it or not. When reality kicked in I realised I could be bleeding and to get off the bloody quilt. Bloody it was. So was the tea towel I used to stop my head from bleeding. I took a short break and sat on the couch where I just began laughing at myself. As my Dad said only I could turn quilting into a dangerous craft. After bandaging my head I got on with the job, washed out the blood as best as I could and finished for the night. The next morning after having a second crack at washing out the blood I dried the quilt, wrapped it wrapping paper and later in the day posted it off to its recipient, mild blood stain and all.
It's obvious that I seriously need a break. The brain isn't working properly, the body can barely carry itself. I pine for Providence and get devastated each time I pass the turn off to head home. Oh, the monotony!