The Tired Get Tireder And The Hateful Get Hatefuler

Farmer H is driving me a little bit crazy.

Yesterday morning, as he was leaving for work, he passed by me all comfortable and warm under a fleece throw, reclined in his La-Z-Boy, trying to catch five or six winks before work. He reached his big paw down onto the top of my head and stroked it like I was Juno. Except that he never pets my sweet, sweet Juno. And he wondered why I took offense to that loving touch. Hmm. Perhaps he's never heard of a woman getting ready for work, combing her hair just so, and preferring for it not to be tousled within an inch of its life so that students might ask, "Do you have a comb?" "Do you know how to use it?" "Do you turn on the light?"

Farmer H also took offense when he leaned in for a kiss, and I turned my head.

"Why won't you even kiss me?"

"I heard you up here sneezing last night. I do NOT want to be sick. It's bad enough that all the students are sick, walking up and down the hall hacking and snorting, right under my nose."

"I'm not a kid. And I'm not sick. I was just sneezing."

This is the guy who objects to the hand towel I lay against the side of my face when I sleep on my back. "What? You can't even LOOK at me?"

"Um. It's 1:30 a.m. It's dark. I have no plans to look at you. Nor do I have plans to inhale those germs your breather is spraying on me."

Uh huh. Guess who missed work today because he was sick? I swear y'all are psychic! YES! It was indeed Farmer H! He was SO sick. "HM. I'm staying in bed. I was up with diarrhea all night, and I feel nauseous."

But here's the rich part. Farmer H can't decide how to complain about me!

Saturday night: "I guess you think that just because you creep in here every night, all quiet, turning the doorknobs easy, that I don't wake up when you come to bed."

"It's no secret when I come to bed. It's always late. I've been that way since I was a kid. I'm not an early bird. I stay up late, and I'd like to sleep late on the weekend. You wake me up every time you move, then you demand that I get up at 6:00 on the weekend."

Last night: "I am so wide awake. You come in here like a bull in a china shop every night, banging things around! How am I supposed to sleep?"

"I thought I was sneaky and quiet. At least you got in a good four hours of sleep before I woke you. Now you can have another four hours. Unlike the four hours total that I will get."

Yeah. Plus he got even MORE sleep because he didn't go in to work today, and I had to take The Pony to school on time before my doctor's appointment, then waste time at my mom's house, then invite her along for the ride, then sit in a waiting room for an hour, then take my mom back home, then go back to school to grade today's work and pick up The Pony.

Even Steven needs to get on the stick and straighten out this inequality. It's not like I can walk by and ruffle Farmer H's hair before work. And no man needs 25 hours of sleep a night.