Somewhere Down the Centerline

A snapshot of my life:

It is the end of the second longest day I've had to work. Sweat makes my face slick and grimy. Saddle soap clings to my knuckles and between my fingers. I discard dreams of attractive waiters and finishing my grocery list. All I can focus on is the stall I'm cleaning.

I turn my wheelbarrow to the next stall, where some naughty horse has spread out every pile of poop. I spill some nasty words as I get to picking up each individual piece.

Midway through, almost done. I scoop up two pieces and turn to fling them into the wheelbarrow. And one leaps off my fork in protest.

I stop, staring at the lively piece of poop. Did I hallucinate this?

Then the frog hopped from the stall, obviously not impressed.

I almost died.