To the few regular readers who have spent as much time as I with horse manure - you're on safe ground. All other regular readers - weirdness alert. New readers stumbling onto today's reflection - my stuff is rarely scatological and usually not this lowbrow; honest. But poop aside, I won't be as embarrassed going on record with this crap if at least one reader - old or new - tells me where their brain travels when involved with any smelly task as repetitive as mucking. Zen masters: Please, no shit about mindfulness.
The upside to mucking a paddock: It's near impossible for someone to question your thoroughness.
The downside: Your sense of closure is never longer than any one horse's digestive cycle.
I'm especially interested in knowing how a perfectionist thinks they would handle my stinky dilemma.