Saturday, June 13, 2015

Every Thorn Has Its Rose

This day in Hillmomba...

I guess you know you're a Hillbilly when a rooster struts across the front porch of your Mansion and stops right under the living room picture window, and crows. Repeatedly.

The cats have massacred some type of bird on the side porch. All that's left is the butt, tail feathers still intact, and a few scattered other-feathers. Then they have the gall to drape themselves across the metal chair Farmer H perches on for grilling and the garden shelf on the garage wall, all insouciant and boneless, following me with their eyes. I'm surprised they haven't dispatched the fat bullfrog in the fake fish pond. I heard it the other morning, croaking like a boss. Haven't seen it yet, though.

The neighbor's couch has disappeared. Maybe someone came and took it, thinking it a fresh discard, and not six weeks old. I hope it was the people who have been squatting down by the creek, near EmBee. They park on our gravel road, and I do not notice them contributing money for a dump-truck load of gravel. Then they sit in the creek. Yes, a creek is free. But the parking is not. I suppose I could sit down there with a canvas apron with pockets filled with change, and charge them by the hour. Hey! Don't like it? Park on the county road that my taxes pay for! Pardon me for taking exception to their freeloading. Their car has Illinois plates. And they left a pile of waxed-cardboard drink cups yesterday. On our gravel road. That we pay for. Unless they have traveled down the Mississippi and branched off through different tributaries until they arrived in our creek...I see them as a drain on our resources. I didn't even recognize their brand of drink cups! They can't be buying local!

Here's a pleasant surprise. Yes, you're still at the Hillbilly Mansion. But pardon me momentarily while I share a bit of good news. Today I went to the dead-mouse-smelling post office to mail a letter and small package to The Pony at Boys State. There was no line (!) AND the whole building smelled like cinnamon! Somebody's got a Glade Plug-In!

That concludes this Hillmomba update. Farmer H was gone all day, and has not done anything complaint-worthy.



Kathy's Klothesline said...

Soon they will pitch a tent and stay the night. Maybe you can make some breakfast for them ...... Where is the deranged poodle when he could be terrorizing someone worthy?

Hillbilly Mom said...

I imagine they'll just kill one of those water birds with the long legs, and roast it over a fire that will spread to the surrounding woods. The Devil Dog has been absent from sight lately. The Pony thinks they have it in a pen. I find that hard to believe, since it stays in their house. I think maybe they actually put it on a leash now for peeing and pooping.