It’s been hot here, hotter than normal, hot enough to put people on edge. Smoldering embers take hold and roar up into wildfires where you thought there was only gentle ground. Literally and figuratively.

My horse has been refusing to eat much of his hay for the last two weeks. I thought it was the heat. Then someone commented on his weight loss. I was of course annoyed before accepting that, yes, he was losing weight and I needed to do something about it.

So on a 102 degree day, I picked up four bales of alfalfa after work. I unloaded the bales, stacked them, stacked my existing hay in front of them and then broken one open to feed. I saw a funny looking patch, I wondered if it was mold. I pulled a couple flakes off and then saw the expanse of mold covering the entire bale. Expletives were uttered. Then I opened the second bale. More mold. More expletives.

I opened the third and fourth bales. By now, my stack of hay, bales of alfalfa four layers down, is wobbling and falling all over the place. It was hot. I was stressed and tired and mad. I knew I had to load this alfalfa back in the truck and spend another 100 degree evening returning the rotten bales and unloading and restacking the new bales.

I wish I could say I saw the humor in it. I didn’t though. I only saw the hot miserable work done for nothing and the hot work left to do the next night.

So I did what any normal person would do. I went home and took out my bad mood on my husband. Why do we do this? Turn on our closest allies in times when we need them the most? Maybe you don’t, maybe it’s just me and my crazy temper. I can’t be the only one though, even if it’s tough to admit.

The ironic part is that I spent the morning telling a good friend, who is going through a rough time, not to dwell on the negative, that there is much to be thankful for, to practice gratitude. Turns out high horses buck, and rightfully so, because what business do I have giving advice I can’t follow even under the smallest of trials? Rotten bales. I lost my temper and hurt my loved one over rotten bales.

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I should probably take a dose of that medicine I was trying to force down my friend’s throat. Because really, just being alive is a win. Having a job, having a home filled with food and water and clothes and a decent air conditioner, are all blessings. But in that moment, coated in sweat and alfalfa, all I could think about was my misfortune. I could only see the rotten bales in my life.

So, as hard as it is to admit when I’m wrong, when I have work to do, I have to make a commitment to appreciate how much I have, how much I am blessed with, instead of letting a few rotten bales spoil the rest of what’s good.

What are your “rotten bales?” What do you do to keep yourself grounded in times of stress and frustration and not give into negativity? I’m honestly asking, help a gal out.

As for the bales, a barn angel appeared the next night and helped me load the three bad bales back into the truck. Rest assured I was thankful for the help rather than bitter I had to do the work at all.

PS: Gangster’s appetite hasn’t returned to normal levels, but he is happy to eat the alfalfa and he is drinking plenty of water, so I’m hopeful he’ll put his lost pounds back on. I was going to say I wish I could lose weight as easily as he can, but I suppose if I ate a plant based diet all the time I’d probably be pretty slim. Starbucks fraps and bagels don’t make for lean bodies!