Farmer H is at it again. He's horning in on my Farmer-H-free time. Like last night. Bowling night. He gets home late, and The Pony feeds the animals. I left Newmentia early, because I didn't want The Pony to have to feed in the dark, like last week. Because it was 28 degrees when we left school.
I had signed up for a technology class on using some Google something that takes the place of spreadsheets. As you can see, I sorely needed this workshop. But when The Pony told me he wouldn't be staying for Scholar Bowl practice after all, I decided I would leave early. I had every intention of attending. I hurried up with my grading. I grabbed note-taking paraphernalia and headed down the hall, leaving The Pony to watch a movie in my room until I could make an early exit.
Of course I had to stop by the faculty women's restroom on the way. What do you think I am, a camel? There's no storing of water in this beast. So I was afraid I might be late, even though it was five minutes before the festivities were due to start. I've been to three other sessions, and people start trickling in as soon as the bell rings. Then we wait for Elementia folks to arrive. I wanted to make sure I got the same desk near the door.
I hoofed it down the ramp, past the library, and saw that the door was closed with the window blacked out. This happens sometimes. Teachers don't like interruptions. I grabbed the handle. It was unlocked. The door opened. The classroom was dark! Not a single person was in there. So I looked across the hall in the other computer lab. Nope. Only students. Wasn't THAT a fine how-do-you-do? Only this morning I had RSVPed my attendance. I had not received an email that the session was canceled. What gives?
Nose out of joint, I went back to my classroom. Told The Pony I was getting a few things ready for the next day, and we'd be leaving. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom may be stood up once. But not twice.
We headed home by way of Dairy Queen for a chicken basket for The Pony. Farmer H called while I was paying. "Dad says he isn't bowling tonight. He doesn't feel like it. But he doesn't want Dairy Queen. He's coming home." Hmpf! Good thing he didn't want Dairy Queen, because I didn't offer it. The order was already made. He was on his own. It was THURSDAY, by cracky! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not responsible for him on bowling nights.
Yep. He arrived home soon after The Pony had fed his animals. "I'm sick. I'm going to bed." Yeah. He's always sick. That means he's restless when I go to bed, and snorts and complains and keeps me from sleeping, after he's already had a full eight hours.
Or the breather spews toxic virus into my nose and gaping mouth while I think I am restoring my health with a good night's sleep.
Farmer H. The horningest horner-inner who ever horned.