So much has transpired since last I remembered that I had a blog, it’s ridiculous. But don’t worry. I won’t bore you with any of it. Suffice it to say that it was all dreadful. However, I can’t resist posting a couple of pictures. Observe the new Dreadful Acres barn, approaching (but never attaining) a state of completion. And only six months behind schedule!
Work, of course, has skreeked to a standstill. This is consistent with the natural order of things in the wild world of dwelling construction. When one embarks on a construction project, it is well to bear in mind that it will never be finished in one’s own lifetime. Currently we await the rubber floor installers, who are running a month late.
Because I can’t imagine that too many other people are stupid enough to buy rubber floors for their flippin’ hobby barns (thus clogging up the rubber floor installation queue), I can only surmise that the rubber floor installer dudes just don’t feel like installing any rubber floors at the moment. Presumably they are partying at a Sandals resort in Cancun.
In any event, within a few weeks the floor will be in, and then the stall fronts can be installed. At which point I suppose it will be possible to actually put horses in there.
Holy crap. Horses in my barn? The mind reels. I’ve been designing this barn since I was twelve. I’ve uprooted my whole life, moulded it to this specific purpose, and spared no expense to accommodate the fulfillment of this childhood dream of barn perfection. A sense of foreboding engulfs me.
Undoubtedly what will happen is, at the moment of truth, I will escort the mares to their new luxury quarters, take their picture, and then turn them right back out again, because there is no good reason to confine a horse in a barn on a perfectly good sunny day when it could be lounging around under an oak tree in a perfectly good pasture.
Then I will stand in the aisle of my exquisite empty barn and gaze at it, somewhat brokenly. I will experience an existential pang at the inevitable realization that horse barns do not constitute a high moral purpose or embody great philosophic value, and that my ever-misguided search for Truth and Beauty has met another dead end. Thus bringing to a dramatic culmination the dream of 42 years.
As the good old poet said, “the world is a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.”
I can’t wait!