In All the Wrong Places

We're starting to assemble tack for Eugene. The trainer said she'd been riding him in myler comfort snaffle. And I was like, score one for being a tack hoarder; I've got one of those. It was Finnick's bit and I never managed to sell it, but I did need to find it.

Which brings us to another episode of texts with my husband:

Despite having two tack rooms and a trailer, a fair number of horse supplies somehow find themselves in our house. Because I have this unrealistic ambition that I won't keep horse stuff in our house, I don't have a place for it, and it just ends up all over the place. And really, given the random selection of items mentioned here, one might come to the conclusion that nothing in my house has a place, but that's not true. That casserole dish totally has a place in the cabinet above the fridge. It's been on top of the dishwasher for at least a year, but it has a place.

Does anyone else keep horse stuff at home?

Labels: Eugene the Mustang