Work!
Harry was beside himself, alone in his cubby, in a windowless office, staring at his computer screen. The clock on the wall read 4:00. Another hour of drudgery sitting behind his desk, reading reports, verifying the information online and trying to ignore all the loud comments from others about all the mistakes he was letting get through. Not only did he need a break from this tedium now; he needed a break tomorrow, and the next day and for the rest of his life.
In his mind he could see himself, relaxing in a comfortable chair, a glass of Jameson in his hand, gazing out from his porch at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, while giving orders through his headset to all the sub managers working under him, making everything up as he went along, not having to deal with all of the crap his job entailed and getting paid for it.
It was now 4:30. Wouldn’t it be more fun, if he was his own manager? He was in command, instead of being ruled by those around him.
Again Harry’s mind wandered. There’s that mysterious benefactor that takes him away from all this monotony. Harry is listening to the sweet sounds of nature around him. Feeling wanted by those he works with. Able to work from home, lots of flex time. That’s the life he wishes for and hopes for.
The time clock finally reaches 5:00 and his workday is done. Time to go home and wish some more.
Be careful, Harry, sometimes what you wish for does come true. But make sure you read the fine print.
Five weeks later…
Harry did have a benefactor. An unknown granduncle passed away and left Harry his entire animal farm, with just enough money, so that Harry could quit his job, sell his house and live on whatever he could make out of the farm. He chose to make it an animal sanctuary.
It’s now 4:30 a.m. Harry is awoken to the sounds of nature, that would be the roosters crowing and the chickens and guinea hens calling to be let out from their coops.
As he steps out onto the porch, a thermos of hot coffee in hand, he can see the mountains of hay and not to mention the piles of manure to be dealt with. Today is the day that not many volunteers show up to do the muck work, so he has to go out and do it himself. He finds himself going from pen to paddock attempting to get the pigs and horses to do his bidding, while he fills the water troughs, distributes the food, graciously donated by local food markets. Brushes the animals down and makes sure they are all healthy.
Yes, his animals love him for what he does, they must, for they never stop crowing, neighing, grunting, and howling. The volunteers do help in doing some of the chores. Donations help sustain the farm, so he’s able to make do and survive.
And the day progresses. The clock may eventually reach 5:00 p.m. but there are no set hours on a farm; all time is both scheduled and flexible. It’s rise at dawn and stop when every chore is done and the animals are put up for the night.
Harry sits on the porch at the end of the day, flask of Jameson in his hand, as his mind wanders; Wouldn’t it be nice to work in my own cubby all day for a set period of time, have weekends off, not have to think about what must be done, just stare at a computer screen making sure everyone else did things correctly. One can only hope.
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Author’s note – I encourage all my readers to support local or regional farm animal sanctuaries. If you have none nearby, or want to learn more about them, here is the one that I support: https://www.unityfarmsanctuary.org/
