Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Farmer H, Thy Name Is Sloth. And Mud.

You're not gonna believe the shenanigans Farmer H has been up to of late. Okay. You're TOTALLY gonna believe it. But I must vent.

Sunday evening, I made deep dish Chef Boyardee pizza for supper. I don't partake of it myself, but my guys like it. The Pony prefers just the powdery parmesan and sauce on his bready crust. Farmer H prefers some sort of meat. Hamburger goes best with Chef Boyardee. So I had to first fry the hamburger while the dough was rising for the thick crust. Because I was not about to fry only enough hamburger for a third of a Chef Boyardee pizza (The Pony enjoys leftovers, Farmer H does not), I put the whole pack in the skillet and made taco meat for Monday night.

Then I had to cut up some strawberries and bananas for dessert, and make myself some chicken wings and BBQ slaw, and wash all the dishes. It took over an hour. More like 90 minutes. So I call The Pony to get his food while I'm washing the pizza mixing bowl. Then I call Farmer H to tell him he can come get his portion. I had that pizza all cut up and ready to dish out.

Farmer H came to the kitchen and made a beeline for my tray with a fancy paper plate on it. He grabbed the plate awaiting my chicken wings, which were still in the oven.

"No. That's MY plate. It's on my tray. If you had kept picking it up, you would see that it's sitting on a used paper plate from lunch. So you'd be getting a paper plate with queso sauce and salsa on the bottom."

"You called me in!"

"Yeah. To get your pizza. Not to grab a plate off my tray. The plates are RIGHT THERE on the counter."

"Fine! Never mind! Forget it! I'll come back when you're done. Forget it. Don't make me nothin'!"

"Why? Because I don't want you taking a plate off my tray? You always do this! I spend hours making food for you, then you have a hissy fit and take off. Thanks. Walk away from the food I took all that time to make."

Farmer H took a plate from the stack like he's done every other time we used the good paper plates. He managed to mangle one piece of pizza from the 9 x 13 glass baking dish, and took off out the door. Leaving me with a sink full of cooling dishwater, waiting on that glass pan to wash. I had already put away The Pony's leftover pieces. So I dug out Farmer H's, put them on ANOTHER fancy paper plate, and washed that pan.

That man is ridiculous. He doesn't know how good he's got it.

Juno would really appreciate those two pieces of pizza...

4 comments:

Sioux said...

I would be, "Whoops. The pizza fell on the floor as I was putting it away, so I gave it to Juno."

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I was THISCLOSE to giving my sweet, sweet Juno a Chef Boyardee treat! I have to watch her figure, though. She had already eaten old bread that soaked up the hamburger grease.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

I don't know that you will ever get that man trained! Mine has had the same pill boxes for years, but he ALWAYS holds the pink one up and asks if it is his. Drives me crazy.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
Yes, it's a losing battle. But I'm not ready to raise the white flag just yet.