Farmer H is no match for Mrs. HM. He might THINK he's going to best her in a strong discussion, but he won't. He lets his guard down. He forgets what he was strongly discussing. Mrs. HM can talk him in circles, and prove her point.
Farmer H was going to have homemade beanie weenies for supper on Saturday. Something to be made before I left for town, and put in FRIG II for him to warm up before leaving for the auction. His instructions were simple. And repeated three times on Friday.
"Before you go up to your Storage Unit Store, bring over some of the Ponytail Guy's FREE food. Bring several packages of hot dogs, since you have so many. And a container of those chicken patties. I'll use them in my leftover Chinese, and The Pony can have a sandwich."
When I looked in FRIG II Saturday morning around 11:30, there was no Ponytail Guy food! Well. I guess Farmer H would not have beanie weenies after all.
When I got home from town, Farmer H was sitting at the kitchen table, drooling over his ledger, figuring his profits. I opened FRIG II to get olives for my lunch, and saw that Farmer H had put in ONE PACK of hot dogs, and a GIANT BAG of frozen patties. About 40 patties! Of indeterminate meat.
"Uh. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all this meat! There's not room in the freezer over here. And last time you brought even HALF this amount, it MOLDED in the bag! When are we going to eat 40 patties? That aren't even chicken!"
"Them's chicken patties. The kind you like."
"No. They don't even look the same. They look like those sausage patties that we hated."
"That ain't sausage. It's got a coating."
"It doesn't have the cross-marks like the kind we hated. But it's sausage."
"HM. It's the chicken patties you wanted. I don't know why you're complaining."
Farmer H made a quick getaway to his recliner. I proceeded to move things around in FRIG II's freezer, find some gallon ziploc bags in the pantry, and commenced to sort out those patties for freezure. Muttering all the while.
"I don't know why you have to complain all the time!"
"Is it hurting you while you sit in there? I'm the one dealing with it, while I'd rather be getting my lunch ready. I thought you were bringing this before I left for town. I'm not making your beanie weenies now. You can have a TV dinner, or eat a hamburger at the auction."
"I'll be fine eating a hamburger at the auction!"
"Good! But I STILL have to deal with all these patties that nobody wants."
"It's the ONLY THING YOU HAVE TO DO ALL DAY, and you're complaining!"
"I don't see YOU taking it back or finding a way to save it! You were supposed to bring a lot of HOT DOGS, and a FEW chicken patties! You SAID they were chicken patties! The good ones!"
"That IS chicken patties! It says so on the bag!"
"It might SAY it's chicken, but it's sausage! Come in here and smell it! Sausage! I even see the red peppers in it! It doesn't look a thing like the chicken patties with the breading!"
Since Farmer H didn't come into the kitchen, I took a Chinese Tupperware container of the patties to his recliner.
"There! Smell that, and tell me it's chicken!"
"I don't want to smell it!"
I held that tray under Farmer H's nose. He had to breathe.
"I don't have any idea what kind of meat that is!"
"EXACTLY! Just like I told you! It's NOT CHICKEN PATTIES! You just admitted it!"
All it takes is time. Mrs. HM will always outlast and outwit Farmer H.