Yesterday my sister the ex-mayor's wife and I, with the help of The Pony, cleaned out some stuff from Mom's house. And by cleaned out, I mean they bagged old food from Mom's stash that she purchased from Ye Olde Expired Food Shoppe, put it in giant black trash bags, and left it in the middle of the kitchen floor for Farmer H to pick up this morning with his truck and take to the landfill. I worked in the bedroom upstairs, sorting through clothing. You'll see why I make that distinction later.
Off went Farmer H and the bleary-eyed Pony at 7:15 this morning. I really wanted to keep The Pony to help with my shopping, as was the original plan, since he'll be gone on Sunday. But I knew those bags were heavy and many, and relinquished my frisky assistant.
After a solo shopping trip, and five hours later, I learned that Farmer H had a bone to pick. "Those bags had leaked all over the kitchen floor! And since you guys took all the paper towels and napkins, there was nothing to wipe it up with!"
"Hey! I didn't leave anything on the floor. That stuff was in bags. I don't know how it could leak. Besides, that wasn't my job. I put out the clothes on the bed!"
"Well, she must have put that frozen food in the bags, so of course it all melted all over the floor."
"I don't know how it got out of its wrappers and the trash bags."
"It was a mess. I took the rugs your mom had there by the front door and in the entryway, and I laid them on the kitchen floor to soak up the mess."
"Where are they now?"
"I told you! On the kitchen floor!"
"Soaking up the mess."
"Didn't you take the bags to the landfill?"
"Yes. But there was a puddle."
"Why didn't you just wipe it up and bring the rugs for me to wash?"
"Because I wanted to soak up the mess."
"Because you didn't think of it!"
"I'll go out there and wash them in her washer."
"I could have done it right here. I'm doing laundry now! When are you going to have time? You take The Pony to Boys State tomorrow. Sunday you have to drive a lawnmower to the #1 son's roommates. Then Monday you have work, and the appraiser is coming that evening. The house will stink from those wet rugs, because The Pony says you turned the air conditioning off."
"I'll get to it."
Yeah. Guess who went back to town, a round trip of over an hour, and brought those rugs home and washed them this afternoon? Uh huh. NOT Farmer H.
I am shocked that The Pony was party to such a lapse in judgment.