Watch out! She's gonna blow! At least that is what it feels like. I always used to love September. My parent's were farmers and September always meant excitement, hurry up and go and family dinners in the field sitting on the tailgate of the pick-up truck. I loved the whole shebang. It just didn't get any better for me. When I moved to BC I missed it so much and then when Mom and Dad sold the farm in the mid 90's I was devastated. I knew that the chances of experiencing another harvest would be slim to none. Now I know what Mom and Dad went through during that seemingly harmless month of fall - STRESS and alot of it! Not that I am a farmer or doing any kind of harvesting but since Mike is a guide outfitter and our whole livelihood depends one ONE month of the year, I can understand that probably harvest wasn't as much fun for them as it was for me.
Not only am I working full time (at a job that is sucking the ever-living joy out of me) but I am expediting for Mike. This basically means alot of running around in circles and shaking my fist at the heavens, shouting "Why? Why do you hate me?" There is just so much to worry about. Do I have the itineraries for all the clients? Who is picking them up at the airport? What if their hotel lost their reservation? Did I pick up the correct groceries (like 2 carts at a time) and get them boxed up and delivered in time? How are the clients getting to the floatplane base? What happens if their luggage gets lost? What do I do with the meat when they come out of the bush? Oh, so you shot a moose and want to take it home with you...but you don't have a cooler or any way to transport it? Lovely - let me take it home for you where I will attempt to hoist 200 pounds of meat into my freezer and then pack it all up in MY cooler so you can take some fucking meat home. Did I mention that I have to pack this heavy cooler UP some stairs and out to the truck and then HOIST it up to the tailgate - lovely sight, let me assure you. When do I need to pick up the licences government agent's? When am I going to be able to clean my house? When do I feed my children? Do I have enough liquor to get me through? All very important questions.
I've done this for five years now. I should be an old hand. Sadly, I think I get a little more panicked every year - I start hyperventilating in July just thinking about it. AND to top it all off - we are putting the house up for sale when Mike gets out of the bush. I'm seriously going to pop a vein. We are moving to an OLD farm house out in the country. I am excited about it, but the amount of work that goes into selling a house is getting me itchy. I am looking at our house with new eyes. Why don't we have laminate floor? I don't really like the stuff, but EVERYONE has laminate floor and nobody will buy our house without the godforsaken stuff. I have convinced myself of this. How about that goddamn burn on the ugly green arborite counter top (that I cleverly disguise with a butcher block cutting board). What about the hole in our bedroom door (that looks suspiciously fist shaped, but Mike - who originally bought this house with his ex wife - insists that a bed frame punched it while they were moving - whatever), what about the ugly mural in the laundry room that a previous owner painted (who in the H, E, double L paints a landscape in their god damned laundry room?). How about the fact that the whole house needs a repaint and I can so fit that into my schedule this month, never mind my budget - just so new owners can come in and REpaint it again! Never mind that the outside of the house needs washing and the yard needs some serious attention. I haven't even entertained the thought of packing up some o' my junk to make the place seem more spacious.
AND, to top it all off - I seem to be losing my hair. Fuck me. A round patch, at the front of my forehead (which may turn into a fivehead soon). There are now words. and I'm still flipping fat. Oh, yeah. Shellie and I are starting weight watchers today. Whoot! Can you feel my excitement?
On the up side, I haven't started smoking again. Which is a miracle in itself because I am so fucking close - I can't even tell you.