How do you solve a problem like Farmer HHHHHHHH?
I swear. There is no pleasing that man. I told him that I was going to buy some more ribeyes yesterday, but that since the weather was turning cooler, I didn't. He said I should have. That he WANTED to grill today, on his auction bargain, Gassy G. So off I went to The Devil's Playground by first making a detour to Save A Lot. I won't buy meat from The Devil. He injects it with water, you know. So I pay for water. Plus, water is not nearly so tasty as the flesh and fat from meat carved by Save A Lot's butcher.
We already discussed the time to eat. On Sundays, it's usually 6:00. He wanted earlier. I said 5:30. Then at 4:00, Farmer H was hollering down the steps to The Pony wanting to know what time I wanted to eat. Here's the thing...Farmer H is always jumping the gun. Sticking his nose in 15 minutes before the meal is done. When the meal is up to him, he also jumps the gun. Forget the sides I'm preparing. He takes it upon himself to forge ahead, then the meat gets cold while we wait. So today, when he asked what time I wanted him to get the grill going, I said, "NOT NOW!" I didn't actually shout. That was The Pony. He had to get the sound to travel upstairs.
Then Farmer H started hounding The Pony. "When, then? Just tell me a time. Don't say not now. Give me a time!" So I told The Pony to say the original time: "Five-thirty."
Well. You'd think I'd slapped Farmer H across the chops with a pair of white gloves. Apparently, them's fightin' words: five-thirty. He stomped across the upstairs area and out the front door, slamming it behind him. There's no pleasing that man. I think he was spoiling for a fight.
Or he really, really wanted some steak.