Desperate stationwife

While I was flipping baby burgers and busting out my finest dance moves at the Darwin Festival, I got a phone call from a lady who offered me a job on a cattle station. I would get free food and accommodation, a salary and the opportunity to apply for my second year visa. She had me at free food. I pictured myself throwing a lasso in the air and galloping on the red sand like a real cowgirl. I'm wearing funky boots and a long white (wedding)dress. Oh and a tiara. My horse is my best friend, we laugh and eat cake together and we chase dingos in the Outback. On Saturdays we would just lay in the grass, gazing at the sky and inventing cloud creatures.

Yiiiiihaaaaa I could not wait! As I arrived at the station - situated behind the second tree on the left in the middle of friggin' nowhere - I got a bucket full of cleaning products and a list of chores. Aha. So actually I'm the cleaning lady. Who also cooks and feeds the calves. A desperate housewife surrounded by cows instead of screaming kids. The cowgirl inside of me committed suicide but the ever positive Joke just kept on doing her daily happy dances. You call it cleaning, I call it eating peanut butter cookies all day long while walking around the station and making things shiny. Plus I get to hang out with cool cows like Sally, I'm wearing a cowboy hat and I have a dog who celebrates the end of a day filled with cleaning by throwing dirt all over the place.