I hate winter. Not only do we end up riding inside, not only do we lose feeling in our fingers while working in the barn, not only do all of the TBs lose their minds first thing in the morning, I always get sick. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I always get hit with something, and this one was a doozy. One and off fevers for three days, coughing like crazy, stuffed up head, the whole deal. I've been working from home and no one can recognize me on the phone. My voice keeps cutting out. Thanks heavens for e-mail and texting.
Of course, this means I haven't been to the barn. My trainer and the resident teenagers that every barn has have been taking care of the princess for me. At least that's one thing off of my mind, and why I love being at a boarding facility like this. I don't have to fight through my sickness to take care of my girl. I know she's being tended to and spoiled rotten.
My trainer likes the jointed snaffle better than the mullen mouth. Fiona might be learning to lean on the softer bit already. I'll have to play with this a bit more and see which one I like better. I might like a bit more feel than my trainer, it is possible.
I blame the cough syrup for the concentration of the word 'bit' there.
So what do I do when quarantined away from the rest of the world and separated from my pony? Well, I work a lot, since it takes a lot longer to get anything done with a fever and cough syrup making my focus completely non-existent. And there are many naps. My dogs are thrilled that I'm spending this much time on the futon with them. They're 13 and 11 years old, so sitting on either side of my lap like a pair of bookends sounds like a lovely way to spend the day for them. I tried to do some productive reading, but 'Centered Riding' kept being dropped when I would doze off. I have discovered that I can get a fair bit of doodling done. This appears unaffected by my condition, or maybe it's enhanced by my nearly delirious state.
One way or another, I'm going to the barn tomorrow. I don't care if this is pneumonia, the withdrawal is killing me. And my husband might smother me in my sleep if I don't go see the pony soon.