Last night, I went to bed with dreamy notions of fooling with Julian. Today I woke up, and the weather was cool and lovely, perfect for working with horses. But the Julian I was imagining was at least sixteen hands high, and agitated and fretful, and ambling about the house, feeding myself breakfast, and catching up on email was infinitely more appealing than taking on that scary creature.
I just came back from feeding him breakfast. He is 14.2 on a good day, and quite mellow considering his two rapid changes of scene and current lack of pasturemate.
Now understand me: I have a healthy respect for time spent thinking, fantasizing, and just plain daydreaming. But where I'm demonstrating a pattern of scaring myself out of something good (namely, fooling with my very sweet horse), perhaps there should be more contemplation of the actual horse (who is currently occupied with eating hay and stomping flies; I must put his fly-spray on) and rather less invention of monsters.
Now I will start the laundry, and do a quick shopping run so that I can eat until Thursday.