It only happens on the weekend

I was attempting to finish planting a field of oats this evening. The computer said I would be done at 9:30 p.m.
However, while I was turning at the end of the field i ran over a large round rock that was barely poking out of the ground. The old-timers refer to those sorts of rocks by an extremely racially offensive term and since I know it is offensive, it is instinctive for me to think of it as such every time I see one of those rocks.
I probably need therapy. I could keep an enterprising research assistant busy for years. But, they would give me an ugly guy with large glasses and so I would just lie to him.
But, I digress...
The field is on top of a hill and is next to a quarry. Those guys dig really deep holes. I looked over the edge. I think I saw people in China or Australia. Or perhaps that was the missing airliner? Still feeling a little dizzy.
But, I digress.
I ran over a rock in the dark and broke an axle on the drill. It also broke the wheel hub. I suppose the nearest axle is in Salina, Kansas. Not to mention the broken hub. That wheel was really heavy. I was able to use a technique for leveraging the wheel up onto the back of my pickup which was also highly racially offensive, but very descriptive. If only there was someone I could use these offensive terms, but alas my employee is on vacation and I really doubt MuddyValley would appreciate a call from me just so I could use archaic offensive terminology.
Again, I am off topic... the wheel and axle are damaged...need a therapist...
It is 9 p.m. on a Friday night. I've got 200 acres to plant and tomorrow I will have five different neighbors asking me why I'm not planting their field. And then I'll be down to 20 acres to plant in five acre fields on steep hillsides. Because that is how it works for me.
I wonder what it takes to actually get Zanax legally?
Why do people become farmers? Is it because they are too weird to get any other kind of job? What about those megalomaniac farmers? Why? I know they think they are really clever by farming 8,000 acres but it is still a lot of work. Would it not be easier just to get a government job? In reality, you farm 8,000 acres and have more stress and get less pay than a rent-a-cop TSA agent. It is kind of funny, those guys we hate for farming the whole countryside and driving up land rents are getting their payback in the here and now. They have to work and worry about loans and people hating them.
I'm relatively sure no one hates me. Other than that car that tailgated me for five miles on the way home and wouldn't go around me even though I kept driving slower and slower and making really slow turns when I could see oncoming traffic.
Perhaps I will go find a hot tub somewhere. I think we have one.  I've heard they are relaxing. I just can't seem to relax in one. I'm always figuring the real apartment owner is going to come out at any moment and my girlfriend and I are going to have to make a run for it. It is actually the same girlfriend as I had when I didn't own a hot tub 30 years ago. It is just that now we are married and we kind of own the trailer manufactured home and if anyone tried to kick us out of the hot tub it would mean I'd have to stand up and I'm sure that would frighten anyone away....
Maybe I'll just go to bed...