I admit it. I am a button-pusher. But really. How can I help it? Those big fat buttons, clamoring to be pushed. So many buttons. So little time. I am a master of pushing the button.
Farmer H has a thing about wasting electricity. I'm not sure why. Maybe he had to do his homework by firelight. It's not like he ever looks at the bill. I think he just wants to practice now for the coming apocalypse. If we live like we're off the grid, it will be easier to live off the grid. Something like that. Farmer H logic.
This waste business does not carry over to Farmer H's activities. It's all well and good for him to chastise Genius about leaving on lights and TV when he leaves the Mansion for hours. And to put 60-watt bulbs in all the lighting fixtures that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom uses for her work and pleasure. Like the kitchen ceiling and the downstairs lamp. But two lights in line from Farmer H's La-Z-Boy to the TV, flanking the electric fireplace, have to be 1000000-watt floods. That's so you can't see the TV for the glare, and you can't read in that La-Z-Boy because your retinas burn out from the foot-candles. That's a measure of lighting intensity, for those of you who never paid attention in physics class. I think it's a conspiracy to keep me out of the La-Z-Boy.
Farmer H can keep a refrigerator in the BARn, one in his BARn loft, and run the heat and lights and air conditioner in there while he uses it as a clubhouse 24/7, 365. But let ME leave the door to Frig open for 30 seconds while I dump some apple slices from a bag to a bowl, and he declares that I'm putting us on the road to the poorhouse.
Yes, I knew Farmer H was in the Mansion and would be walking through the kitchen. Did I leave that door open deliberately? Or was it my subconscious itching to push Farmer H's buttons? I cannot answer that. But I do know that Farmer H commanded Genius to close Frig's door. And that I told Farmer H, "You just walked by it. If it bothered you, why didn't you close it then?" And that Farmer H went stomping back around the sink counter and closed Frig's gaping maw, then stomped back to the kitchen door to make a grand exit. With the parting words:
"YOU are the person who thinks food spoils if it isn't kept cold!"
Oh. My. Genius had a conniption, laughing with food in his mouth, nearly asphyxiating, holding his palm up for mercy, as I got next to his ear and repeated those immortal words. "I am the person who thinks food spoils if it isn't kept cold!"
I couldn't stop. "I, alone, in all the world, think food will spoil if it isn't kept cold! Let's get rid of all these refrigerators. They're unnecessary. People will be fine. Eat, drink, be merry! Warm food never hurt anybody. Who invented this refrigerator thing, anyway?"
Farmer H needs to rethink his exit strategy. Before somebody gets hurt.