I know my sweet baboo would do anything for me. Well, except buy me nice Christmas gifts. Or Mother's Day gifts. Or give me a kind word every now and then. But except for those minor issues, he would do anything for me.
Just this morning, in fact, Farmer H offered to go pick up The Pony from Grandma's house. At 9:00 a.m. When The Pony had been promised he could stay until 4:00. And just this morning, Farmer H took off to run around who-knows-where, and returned at 1:00. "Did you bring me a 44 oz Diet Coke," I asked hopefully." As if I even entered my sweet baboo's mind while he was early-morning carousing.
"Oh. No. But I'll get you one when I go to pick up The Pony this afternoon." That would work out just fine. We were planning to use a Casey's Pizza coupon for supper. Enough of the Christmas leftovers already. So I went about my business. Folded some laundry. Puttered around on the computer. Pointedly refused to wash the dishes. No small thanks to my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel, who called last night and informed me that she had two, TWO dishwashers waiting for installation in her new house. I set Mabel straight from the get-go. "I, too, have TWO dishwashers. They are called, My Left Hand and My Right Hand. So there."
Farmer H laid around the shanty for a while. Watched some football. Probably took a nap in his La-Z-Boy. Then he went to the BARn, the sole purpose to crank up the heat for a larger bill, I'm sure. Then he told me he was leaving to run by The Devil's Playground and exchange a non-fitting mattress pad, and pick up The Pony, and fetch the pizza. He has connections who will sometimes let him use TWO coupons at once.
I ruminated on a blog post. Not this one. Are you kidding? This came right off the seat of my pants, because in 12 minutes I am going to be done with it and watching one of my three Christmas presents, The Heat. I dug out the last two years' tax receipts so the #1 son can stand in line at the license office (home of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's WORST DRIVER'S LICENSE PHOTO EVER) tomorrow to renew the license on the $1000 Caravan. Went upstairs. Closed the shades. Pointedly ignored the dirty dishes again. And eagerly awaited my pizza and 44 oz Diet Coke.
The guys arrived with the goods. A wonderful Sunday night lay ahead of me. Some blogging, a movie, no school tomorrow, pizza, and a 44 oz Diet Coke. Mmm...
"Did you get my soda?"
"OH! I forgot. I'll go get one right now."
"No. I'm not waiting another hour for it. I'll make one here. I've waited all day. Looking forward to it. If I'd known I wasn't getting one, I'd have made one earlier."
"I'm sorry. I just forgot."
Yeah. That seems to happen a lot when it's something my sweet baboo is asked to do for me.