Tuesday, August 21, 2012

The. Horror.

Farmer H has been up to his old tricks again. That wily rapscallion needs his very own reality show. No scripting needed.

Last Tuesday, Farmer H had a bit of nose-skin surgery. While I was frittering away my time at open house, he decided to put clean pillowcases on his pillows, in honor of his fresh, though bandaged, sterile wound. I didn't find out until the next day. And that's only because I asked him why he had The Pony's bright yellow SpongeBob pillowcase on his pillow.

"I wanted clean pillowcases, and I found this one in the towel closet. I went to take off my old pillowcases, and I found out my pillows were full of black mold." (DID YOU HEAR THAT? FULL OF BLACK MOLD! LIKE STACHYBOTRYS, PERHAPS!) "I threw them away, and grabbed those two pillows over there by your side of the bed. I guess when I washed my pillows last week, I didn't leave them in the dryer long enough. They felt kind of damp, but I thought they would dry out."

O. M. S. G. M. Or, for those of you unfamiliar with my colloquialisms: Oh My Sweet Gummi Mary! I had been sleeping next to black moldy pillows for a week. A WEEK! A week of BLACK MOLDY PILLOWS shoved up against my own pillows by the man who won't stay on his half.

Who washes pillows? You can buy one from The Devil's Playground for $4.97 everyday. Low prices. Farmer H spent more than that on the electricity used to wash and semi-dry his pillows.

I guess I should not be surprised. This is, after all, a man who wanted to bid on auction meat.

5 comments:

knancy said...

OMSGM! Send him to the BARn! Otherwise, your entire life will become a vigilance of vestrations (frustrations and vexations).

Sioux said...

Hey, you've got an extra-bright model. Most men would see the black stuff but not recognize it as something bad like mold. Hey, let's be honest. Most men would not realize that pillow cases ever have to be changed/washed.

Keep a tight grip on Hick. Don't let any she-devil get her hands on him. You've got yourself a smart one there!

Sioux said...

Sorry if I called your husband a "hick." I lapsed...what I was thinking came out via my keyboard. It's just that you folks live out in the country.

I apologize. But your Farmer H IS obiviously Mensa-material (when it comes to men)...

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Auction Meat! Someone auctions meats to the highest bidder? Really? Um, where does this meat come from?
He washed his pillows? Why? Was there something more distressing than black mold on them?

Hillbilly Mom said...

knancy,
I shudder to think what lurks in the BARn. And you might wanna watch it, girly! Hillmomba is rife with Grammar Police.

***********
Sioux,
I suppose my Farmer H is a credit to his ilk.

No offense taken on the "hick". He's a regular font of knowledge, that one.

***********
Kathy,
Farmer H said he almost bought it for me. "What kind of meat was it?" I asked, actually expecting a logical answer.

"I don't know. It just said 'Auction Meat' on the box. So I figured you'd probably complain about it."

Darn tootin'!

I don't know WHY he washed the pillows. Pillowcases, yes, to rid them of his drool before laying his open wound on them. They even had those zippered pillow cover thingies on them under the pillowcases.