All Alone on the Ranch...

My parents have left me, a practice they've taken up now that my brother and his wife have had a set of twins. I got home tonight and faced one of the most terrifying experiences of my life: I skipped happily down to the barn to feed the horses and wish them sweet dreams of clover and Reed Canary Grass, and upon entering the barn?

Not a horse to be seen.

Of course, in my mind, the only plausible explanation for such a thing as an empty barn would have to be horse thieves and I immediately panicked and started searching for the tire tracks of the trailer that took them away. (Because everybody's dream horse-snatching involves a lame Thoroughbred and slightly crazed Arabian. Duh.)

I spent a number of minutes wallowing in the fact that I would now be up ALL NIGHT filling out police reports and helping the detectives photograph the crime scene. Because of the field I work in, I no longer worry about the remifications of what happens in a crisis: I simply think of the paperwork. And I imagine that a double horse-snatching would create HOURS UPON HOURS of paperwork.

This is ten minutes in the life of a crazy person, and I guess that Yes, I am still a crazy person. But the missing horses (Who are actually right now having a camp out in their pasture because they refused to come in) didn't make me break out in hives; or burst into tears; or tear my hair out, lay down on the floor and weep for hours on end.

So I'm a crazy person who's going to be ok.

Because that's what I am. OK.