Sunday, July 31, 2016

Mrs. HM Is Mad As A Hater (No, I Really DIDN'T Mean Hatter)

I must be brief this evening. I spent all day and half the night with water to my knees. WAIT A MINUTE! No I didn't! That was the Ozark Mountain Daredevils, singing "Ooh, Boys (It's Hot)."

No. It wasn't all that hot today, but it has been. And today, I spent six hours preparing foodstuffs for 24 traveling sun-vehicle personnel, who will be dropping by to feed and snooze in the Mansion's field Monday night.

Anyhoo, I am tired. I started at 8:30 boiling up the taters for the potato salad, and had the veggies and fruit prepped, and stuff moved to the BARn original FRIG by 3:00. Then it was off to town for my precious 44 oz Diet Coke. Let's not even talk about lunch, because I had none. Unless you count those 4 tastes of potato salad, and a couple of grapes that fell off the vine. You will be proud that Mrs. HM did NOT succumb to taste the cauliflower and broccoli. Tomorrow, I'll get to the baked beans.

So...The Pony was a major helper (as long as I don't refer to his duties as HELPING), what with bringing me items to save me a few steps. We loaded the results in T-Hoe, and I drove him to the BARn to unload them as I left on my way to town.

Let the record show that Farmer H was not very helpful throughout this ordeal, choosing instead to disappear, then show up at lunch time (for HIM) so I could make him something to eat. Then he disappeared a bit longer. Then he came in the Mansion to say he was leaving for a while. I knew he was going to Goodwill, even though he didn't reveal his destination. And he was JUST THERE last night!

Anyhoo...I told Farmer H, "I probably won't be cooking supper. I have to run to The Devil's Playground for some hamburger, then to Save A Lot for the bratwursts and giant hot dogs. I have been in this kitchen all day. You might want to pick up Casey's pizza for supper." And do you know what Farmer H said?

"I'll find something."

Meaning that he was NOT going to pick up Casey's pizza, which he does at the drop of a hat. Which left The Pony to eat six inches of his yesterday's Subway roast beef, and me to have a four-day-old boneless skinless chicken breast with some salsa and chips.

Okay, so as I started back from town, I tried to call, and then to text, Farmer H about unloading that meat into FRIG in the BARn. And to see if I should pick up some food. He had said he would be over there. But no answer! So I called The Pony, who said, "He's in the pool." So I arranged for The Pony to meet me on the porch, and I drove him to the BARn to unload my meat.

Let the record show that Farmer H was standing at the side of Poolio with his chin on his hands, staring at us as we drove back through the yard! AND when I walked across the back porch to the kitchen door, I saw that Farmer H had changed positions, and was on THAT side of Poolio, staring at me again. He was worse than that internet cat that creeps up when you're not looking.

"Why are you staring all the time? You watched us, but you didn't help like you said!"

"I waited. But then you didn't come back."

"I SAID I wouldn't even be back until at least 5:00. It's 5:20, and we've unloaded the meat already."

"Well, I had to sweep the dog poop off the porch..." (The Pony snorted at that, because HE swept the dog poop off the porch).

"So...I need to make myself some lupper? You're not getting a pizza?"

"Make yourself lupper."

I swear, I was certain that Farmer H was just being passive-aggressive again, and fully believed he would wait until I had my plate prepared, then drive off to town to get pizza, and bring it back and tell The Pony to tell me it was here. He's done that more than once.

Let me tell YOU, I was NOT going to have any of that passive-aggressive pizza! I don't care if it hopped out of the box, off the counter, slithered across the carpet and down the stairs, and jumped into my mouth and slid down my esophagus into my belly. I WOULD TAKE THE BIG BUTCHER KNIFE (made by Farmer H's employer) and carve that pizza out of my intestines so as to make it clear to Farmer H that I am tired of his shenanigans!

It kind of took the starch out of my sail when Farmer H did not go to town for pizza.


Sioux said...

You missed the most important detail. What was Farmer H wearing as he watched you toil?

Was he standing there sans tighty-whities?

Hillbilly Mom said...


I didn't go close enough to look down over the porch edge. From the car, all we could see was his chin leaning on his hands on the rim of the pool. At the kitchen, I refused to be drawn closer to him, and only noticed his head and shoulders and perhaps the beginning rotunda of his belly. Because he was up against the other side of the pool.

No wagers on whether he was awful naturel.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Maybe he was hoping you would join him in the pool?

Hillbilly Mom said...