Farmer H has done it again.
My sister the ex-mayor's wife and I have been cleaning out closets in Mom's house. The only thing left in my old bedroom closet, besides craft stuff that Farmer H is going to take to the auction and split the proceeds, were old suits that belonged to my dad. These were not the leisure suits from the hall closet that my nephew wanted to wear to his fishing tournament. These were actual suits. Which could still be worn, they being of the classic suit style.
These suits would not fit The Pony, as he is of a smaller frame, my father having stood six foot two. He had short legs, though, and a long torso. The jackets would come to The Pony's knees, which is not any current sartorial trend of which I am aware. Genius is kind of built that way, but he has his own fashion flair, and would not be interested, having bought himself a fancy suit last year for interviews. We had five bags of clothes to donate on Thursday, so I left these suits hanging in the closet, and told Sis I would get them another day, while she is away on vacation.
I told Farmer H that maybe one of his older two boys could fit in the suits. One is more muscular, and the other is taller. He went by today with his oldest boy, who took three of the suits and will see if the pants can be let down, as Farmer H told it.
"He took three of them suits. They're nice, and he doesn't have a suit. The jackets fit, but he'll need to get the pants let down. Did you know you had one of your dresses in there? And a robe?"
"You were only supposed to take the suits! There was a yellow bridesmaid's dress in a plastic cover, and a white graduation kind of robe that was Mom's from one of her lady society things. Can you not tell the difference in a man's suit, and a long yellow bridesmaid's dress and a long white graduation robe?"
"Well, I didn't think they were suits. I picked them all up. I dropped off the rest of the suits for donation, but those other two are out in the car. I'll take them back."
"Donation? They're not open on Sunday!"
"I left them under their awning. They weren't open the last time I took stuff, either."
Which makes me wonder what Farmer H does with his time, and why he can't tell the difference in a man's suit and a woman's bridesmaid's dress.
2 comments:
HM--
How did Farmer H survive before he married you?
Good grief!
Sioux,
In a haphazard manner, of course. I am his Professor Higgins, he is my Eliza. My Fair Farmer. If only it hadn't already been done...
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