I haven't watched a soccer game since 1998 World Cup. I guess I still haven't, actually, but on Wednesday Phil headed up to town to spend an afternoon with friends watching the Madrid-Munich game. He arrived late, with the score 1-0. Although the score didn't change until the end, he said, "It was so much more exciting than I thought." And then he stayed after and talked, and generally had a pleasant day.
He had tried again to milk Fern. Tuesday had been horrible enough, he confessed later that he was ready to shoot her. Calmer heads prevailed, and he managed to get her in the milking station and massaged her udder.
Thursday Phil ran errands, and spent an hour and a half in the evening milking. Fern seemed a bit more tractable, though he still hadn't managed to get any milk.
Friday or Saturday, Phil finally decided that life is too short to try to milk such a cow. Really, life is short enough, there is no need to shorten it further by risking life and limb every milking. Once wrestled into the stall, she stood moderately well, and perhaps eventually would even give milk. But grabbing her lead rope was a daunting task every time: with her forward-facing horns, and her over-protective personality, the intensity didn't seem like it would ever diminish.
So he turned her back in with the rest of the herd, and again resolved, with a measured, thoughtful cost-benefit analysis, that she will go to the butcher's.
Other tasks undertaken and accomplished this week: fixing the leaking bathroom sink. Wiring the milking station so it has light and power for the milking machine. On Saturday, a friend came and took away the storage trailer. It is surprising to have that space empty again, as it's been almost five years since we got it the first month we were here.
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