Sunday, November 22, 2015

Cleanliness Is Next To #&%-holiness

Alas. The Pony and I have spent the day at the mercy of der Farmer. Not that there was any mercy involved.

Der Farmer has taken off the entire week. He does this every year, I think to make my life miserable on my long weekend. The cold snap has driven der Farmer indoors like a tender field mouse. Only not as cute. He set to turning the Mansion upside down for no good reason. It's not like he cleaned up his collection of hats that occupy one-fourth of the bedroom. No.

Last night he painted a spot on the bathroom wall. This morning he set to cleaning the jets in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom. That task involved several 55-gallon barrels of vinegar. I did not see the barrels, but the liquid in the bottom of the tub was four inches deep, and had a strong vinegar odor. For some reason, there was a plastic box of baby wipes floating in that lagoon. Didn't ask. Didn't want to know.

Then der Farmer asked me to buy him a mop. Never mind that the last time I looked, we HAD a mop. Of course that was quite some time ago...So I asked what kind of mop, seeing as how I had two stops to make, to procure provisions for the Thanksgiving feast, and was trying to imagine how that mop was going to fit into my full basket. Der Farmer declared that HE was going to town later, and would get his own mop, since he is the only one who ever does anything around here. Really. He said that. I could have slapped some sense into him with my dishpan hands, but I held back. He can knock himself out tomorrow mopping, while I toil away at work, and take The Pony to his appointment after school, and drag in around 7:00 p.m.

After I played cart-chicken with aggressive shoppers in both Save A Lot and The Devil's Playground, and stood in line for entirely too long in both stores, and picked up some chicken wings for der Farmer's lunch, he had the nerve to declare that he would really like a 7-layer salad to accompany the Thanksgiving feast. Leaving me three layers short, having only the mayo/sour cream, the bacon, the cheddar, and the eggs for boiling. Now I find it necessary to round up some frozen peas, green onions, and romaine before Thursday.

Der Farmer bossed at The Pony for a while. Then moved a pile of clothing (clean!) off our mini deep freeze in the laundry room. The one I said we didn't need, but that he wanted. Which was used so seldom that clothing took to lolling about, with those boys never putting away their laundry that I wash and dry and fold. So there was a pile left behind by the #1 son when he went off to college. Sure, that was two years ago. But who's counting? The Pony said he could probably wear some clothes from that pile if I wanted him to. Not his own, of course, but those of his brother. See, I used to take that outgrown stuff to my mom's house, and she would have her neighbor come over and look through it for her grandson, and then donate it to a local ministerial alliance. I don't have that option now, and last year we were kind of tied up with Mom's health issues the day before Thanksgiving.

Anyhoo, der Farmer moved a stack of clothes to the washer top. He took out some fundraisers pizzas that had been in the little freezer for a while. I went to put in some hash brown potatoes and some sugar free Cool Whip, and when I raised the lid, it caught on some wallpaper trim that had been originally installed by der Farmer when he built the Mansion.

"The lid of the freezer rips the wallpaper."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes. It does. I just lifted the lid, and it caught on the border, and tore it. Or it was already torn. Because it stuck out and caught the lid."

"The lid does not catch the wallpaper."

"Yes it does. I just lifted it. And it caught."

"The freezer is not up against the wall."

"But the lid catches the border when you open it."

"No it doesn't. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that it does?"

"The lid does not catch the wallpaper, HM."

"Go in there and open it. You'll see."

"It does now. Because of them clothes."

"What's that got to do with it? The lid catches the wallpaper. Not the clothes."

"The clothes laying there are what did it."

"They were just LAYING there. They didn't rip the wallpaper."

"It was the clothes piled there."

"Maybe you ripped it when you LIFTED the clothes to move them! But the clothes didn't tear the wallpaper. The lid of the freezer hits it every time you open it."

"I don't know why you're so hard-headed! You can't tell you anything. The clothes messed up the wallpaper! Not the lid of the freezer!" Off he stalked to sulk.

Sometimes, I wish der Farmer would just go back to screwing a bright red milk crate to the front wall of the house for packages.


Sioux said...

Wow! Taking the whole week off meant a five extra days of fun for you. Think of next year. When Farmer H retires, this is what it'll be like--365 days a year.

I wonder if you could get a job at the gas station next year, so you don't go crazy (or homicidal). I imagine if you worked there, you could get free gas station chicken.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Maybe I should use my ample time to do research. And publish it in the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis.

No free chicken for YOU! Or for me. There's a tale about this establishment just waiting to be told. Some day. Somewhere.