Inga came in as requested and was milked out satisfactorily. First up on the stand, she then proceeded to drive the rest of us crazy. I'd known what her problem was the other day without her saying a word, but yesterday she told the world that she was in heat and not, repeat not, happy. Pacing back and forth and whining incessantly (Rolling Stones, "Can't Get No Satisfaction" playing in the background), Inga got on everyone's nerves to the point where Tessie bashed her in the side. "Shut up! Shut up-shut up-shut up!" I left them to deal with it and got out of Dodge.
In the milking room, I've been noticing a phenomenon I'd not seen before. All the adolescent mice seem to have been banished to a colony on one side of the room while the adults and some pregnant moms live on the other. The breakfast cereal is thrown down on the grownup's side so the teenagers have had to cross over and sneak a treat if they can. Not wishing to be accused of playing favorites, I put some grain down by the burrow openings on the kids' side. It's as if they discovered a goldmine. Some take a piece and rush back down the hole to safety and others bravely sit up on the surface and nibble, watching me with tiny bright eyes. I like playing Lady Bountiful.
I felt great satisfaction as I put the finishing touches on the prototype for The Project yesterday. It's pretty close to what I'd envisioned, and I've worked out how to do some parts better and/or easier. Enthusiasm renewed, I punched holes for three more Projects, becoming more confident in using the drill press (wearing my goggles!).
The shop was always No Man's Land for me, strictly Steve's realm. It's mainly been used for storage in the last few years. Don't where to put it? Put it in the shop. Out of sight, out of mind. Now that I've got a reason to go downstairs, I see what a disaster area it's become. Tools scattered everywhere, boxes and bags of "stuff" piled in the middle, no rhyme or reason to anything. Barely making a dent, every time I go down there now I clean up a small area. I know where screwdrivers, wrenches, and pliers go. Trash is getting thrown out. If and when I find the nails (searched for 5 years for those suckers), I will put them somewhere for easy access. There is a tremendous satisfaction in claiming space as one's own.
It was a good day.