It’s not me. It’s you.

It’s like when you’d break up with your boyfriend. He’d be upset. You’d be upset because he was upset. And you’d get to thinking it wasn’t that bad when you were together. But it was, obviously. Bad enough that you ended it. Just that vital fact would get forgotten in the ‘he’s-upset-now-I’m-upset; have-I-done-the-right-thing?’ moment.

Remember Jackson?

How I held him and snuck out to feed him bottles of milk while Elsie and Maeve weren’t looking so that I didn’t have to share?

And then, it wasn’t so much that we fell out of love as we started to lose respect for each other. He ate my plants. I swung an empty milk bucket at his head with every intention of making contact.

He went to graze in the paddock with the rest of the mob.

Well, yesterday we sheared that mob. (Shore?)

And Jackson and I got back together for a bit.

He jumped up onto the platform to get back into the shearing shed to hang out at cut-out (Cut-out: the end of shearing at a particular shed. The farmer might offer the shearers a cool drink. Or enjoy one himself.)

And for a moment I thought maybe Jackson and I could try again, see if we could work things out.

Then he started eating the straw broom on the board.

And I remembered why we broke up. He’s not moving back in. We’re just friends. One of those cases of ‘It’s not me. It’s you…’

4 thoughts on “It’s not me. It’s you.

  1. Alas …. it was good while it lasted!!! The big break up of 2013 that is. When I began reading this post I was fearful it was going to end up with Jackson for Sunday lunch, and while he was at the dinner table he wasn’t exactly on the guest list but rather the menu!!!
    Christine

    Like

    1. Never, Christine! I don’t eat lamb because I love them so much and the worst thing I’d ever do to Jackson is swing an empty bucket at his head and shoo him away from my new camellias. His mob got shifted back to their paddock today and as they moved along the road past the house, he and his friend decided they’d stay. No amount of prodding from the sheepdog or the farmer would move them on. They hung out in the workshop where the fellas were working, but in the end got loaded into a trailer and delivered back to the paddock. Worth a try!

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s