Do you have enough support to run?

Dressed in attire ready to run down Spring Flat, I stood on a stool, destroying the last thick layer of dust on top of the book shelf in my childhood bedroom. I was dusting the trophies my dad told me not to throw out because they are a "reflection of who you were." I know the sad truth that they are just a reflection of my forced participation and a reminder of the time I was booted from my netball team for being "butter fingers."

The positive now though, is that I am active and I was ready to go for a run. As I dusted the last bit of the shelf, I remembered that yesterday my sports bra hadn't given me the ideal support, so today I had worn an extra layer, for extra support. I decided there and then, that I should test out just how supportive this extra layer really was.

I stood on the stool and jiggled lightly and everything seemed to be in order. I jiggled again, harder this time and much to my horror I was no longer supported, but I don't mean my chest, I mean the bloody stool underneath me had a tanty with all the jiggling and came out from underneath me!

I lay on my bedroom floor with my duster still in hand, boobs still supported and a bit shocked. No damage. Went for my run. Boobs were supported.

I hate the term "country girl at heart"

Do you think it’s funny that yesterday I was on the back of a ute tying a ram to the tray so that we could take the fuzz ball to the neighbours to sheer off all its winter woollies?
If you don’t think that’s funny then maybe you need to take your sense of humour to the doctors because it really is funny. For you folk who don’t know, sheep don’t usually transport like dogs on the back of utes. He was bleating at traffic though and I’m certain that he was having a jolly good time.
Another funny was yesterday when I helped my dad push a 7-tonne truck down a hill, twice, so he could attempt to jump start it, twice. Then there is also the funny of me having to steer the beast backwards up a hill as it was being towed, twice.
I’m spending the week in the country with my dad. Currently I’m unemployed and quite frankly I’ll do anything for a quick buck. So if this means summer cleaning a massive, dust infested country house and my dad is willing to pay me $15 an hour to Jiff the crap out of it, then so be it!
The house is next to a dirt road and the dust from the road thinks it’s nicer inside than outside in its natural habitat. I’ve been coughing for two days, but I’m not mad because I go to bed at night knowing that that I am making the house a less allergenic place for my dad to dwell in.
As for the flies, I went postal on their arses with the vacuum cleaner today. They were those slow, lazy blow flies, the ones that you go to swat away but they are so slow that you end up squishing them and then you feeling dirty because you touched something that likes the smell of poo and gives birth to maggots.
It was very pleasant yesterday afternoon when I’d finished dusting the piano piece and sorting through which tea towels my dad was allowed to keep - I sat out on the grass with a beer and soaked in the country air. I then went and visited my dad in his art shed, I stomped all the way there to scare away the snakes.