I Often Find Myself Where I Was Never Expected

I’m not sure I have ever been afflicted with writers block but I do suffer from long silences. I may not put pen to paper but I am usually thinking and as a writer it is always in sentences. Even in my thoughts I manipulate language in my mind. I am often shy about posting and am minus the motivation to speak my truths. Who am I to think another would care what I conjure?
I have a scapegoat for my most recent drought. I have been without paid work in over a decade but of late I am a member of the workforce. I was employed this past decade with speaking, writing and blogging but I am closer to conventional employment these days. I’m not sure milking 1600 goats is conventional but money for manual labour is.
The majority of my work history involves sweat and most recently stiffness. I was going to write sooner of my endeavor into employment but I wasn’t confident of my commitment. For me a disability pension has been a disgrace; I always felt less or worse, lazy. These past few weeks have convinced me again that I am neither. I challenge any twenty something to outperform me in a milking parlour. I’m not bragging, I’m crying.
Writing is a sedentary lifestyle or at least mine was. I sat and smoked organizing my passion into phrases. I have been a month without tobacco and officially a goat milker. I am also officially stupid as I have found a farm where it is my responsibility alone to feed and milk over 1600 goats. That’s two barns full of frustration. Goats are fairly friendly and docile but definitely devious. A goat can see an unfastened gate from a quarter mile and any and all will squeeze through a four millimeter gap.
I’m still trying to figure out if they like to be milked. Feeding is part of the process and though it is a distraction each and every goat knows how to kick off the milking mechanism with a mouthful of food. You might ask “how do you milk 1600 goats in less than five hours?” and some day when I have five seconds or more I will figure it out. The word exhaustion will have to be a clue for now.
When I found the help wanted advertisement I thought, “That might be interesting. I like goats or the three I have met.” I now realize intense is closer than interesting when you’re talking about 1600. I want to quit for the first half of my shift which morphs into I want to finish which is followed by a 35 minute commute where I can say I just milked 1600 goats. I revel in the fact that no other driver on highway 401 is saying anything similar.
It is an agricultural assembly line of sorts but no two goats are the same. Each goat looks different from behind. I don’t have much time to compare but I am recognizing the odd rear end. One goat is freakishly bowlegged and unequivocally the only cooperative goat in the whole flock.
I bought a quart of goat’s milk as a form of job security and I encourage all my readers to do the same. I am giving a one year free subscription to my already free blog for any who mail in proof of purchase. I as yet don’t know how goat’s milk gets distributed in the area but I wouldn’t be surprised if any litre had a spoonful from “my” goats. I can’t say these goats are sweet but a lot of love goes into a gallon.
I use a staff to herd the goats from pen to parlour. I bang it on the gates and walls to speed them from place to place. One goat calmly ignores me. Number 208 waddles along and scratches herself on any and all surfaces. She reminds me not to rush in my fever of frenzy.
Another goat inspires me. It is a young buck who has a triangular wooden yoke fastened around its head to prevent it from escaping from its pen. I find myself confused about six times each night as it defies its constriction and enters and mingles with each pen of goats. I too dislike being told where to be and though not as adept as this bugger I often find myself where I was never expected.

2 thoughts on “I Often Find Myself Where I Was Never Expected

  1. Hi Brett, You most likely don’t remember me but I am Vina Chamberlain’s brother Eldon. The last time I saw you was when you helped Jim load a treadmill that Vina had given me onto my trailer. They were your neighbours then. I took it home but alas I must say that it has not contributed much to my electrical expenses and I’m looking for some “jock” type to take it off my hands.

    I want to let you know that I enjoy and look forward to your blogs which I find refreshing and well written. Your latest one with the goats took me somewhat by surprise, that is pretty much off the beaten path by any standard measurement but then again you do have a knack for the unusual. Keep up with your very interesting prose, I look forward to reading your next instalment. Perhaps the upcoming federal election will provide you with some fodder, my only hope is that we somehow manage to lose Harper, I’ll be happy with anyone else be it Trudeau , Mulcair or even May.

    Regards, Eldon Mantha

    • Hi Eldon,

      I do in fact remember you and the treadmill. You are not the only one with unused exercise equipment. Kijiji would have half as much for sale if it weren’t for people like you and I. I was the proud owner of a rowing machine which I used to hold my carpet down and I coated it with dust seemingly every day. I found a “jock” to purchase it several months ago and used the money to buy a couch. I figure if you’re going to sit on something it should be comfortable. It is also near impossible to feel guilty when you’re sleeping on it.

      Thanks very much for contacting me and for your encouraging words. It is rewarding to actually know a few of my readers and I am pleased to know you are one.

      I am also hoping Canadians have enough self respect to heave Harper. It used to be only once a day the Conservatives did or said something worthy of my disdain but now that they are campaigning I am confused by the calamity and almost don’t know where to take aim.

      I hope things are good in the north and that health and happiness find you regardless of how many miles you put on a treadmill.

      Kind regards,
      Brett

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