I’m so talented. I managed to change out of my work pants and into jeans while driving last night. Past a church, no less. I don’t know why the church is important, but it felt scandalous to be driving momentarily pantsless past a church. Don’t worry, I was only going about five miles an hour.

But aside from that actually, I feel like I should warn you that this is one of the thinking posts rather than a funny one. The reason I was changing my pants in the car last night was because I was driving from work to a friend’s barn to ride one of her horses, but I was in a hurry to get there because the sky was looking ominously grey and rainy. We’ll skip the background story that explains whose place it was and why I felt the need to ride in a potential rainstorm at six o clock on a Friday night. Just know that’s what I chose to do with myself.

I almost didn’t go, because I still felt miserable and unable to breathe, because the weather forecast was uncooperative to say the least, because I had (still have) a bunch of freelance work to catch up on. But in the end, the lure of horse sweat hay dust won me over.

If something makes you really happy, try to find a way to do it. No matter how inconvenient or unconventional.

As soon as I stepped out of the drizzling twilight and into the cozily lit barn, as soon as I greeted my fellow horse people and gave my horse a good scratch on the forehead and started to curry the dirt off of his neck, I felt better. While I was riding in the dark and the damp, the night air didn’t feel cold and wet and longer. It was refreshing, brushing across my face and settling into my collar and my boots.

I love riding this particular horse because (aside from the fact that they share the same name) he reminds me of my old horse. They’re very different rides, but similar personalities. I felt like I was home again.

After riding and being invited into the house for Friday night pizza and some comical shared stories about the numerous ER visits we’ve received courtesy of our equine friends, I bundled back into my car for the drive home. And everything seemed right with the world. Wet snowflakes nearly the size of my palm whipped merrily past the windows while I blasted the heat on my feet in their unlaced paddock boots. Every song that came on the radio felt like my favorite song in the world. Maybe it was the magic of knowing I had a three-day weekend ahead of me, or maybe it was the barn dirt under my finger nails: I was still sick and still had work to do and was still $750 dollars poorer than last week.

But I didn’t care, because my life is so full of good things.


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