Most days, the universe conspires against Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. But occasionally, she gets by with a little help from her blog buddies. Sioux was kind enough to offer up her husband as a business partner for Farmer H! She's so selfless, our Sioux. Retiring, then still working at a regular job molding the future citizens (okay, the mind is the first to go, that came out furnture citizenks) of our nation.
I foresee Farmer H and Sioux's Mister parlaying their dish-dirtying acumen into a business that should be named: N. CAHOOTS. "Two Old Coots to Jog Your Memory (As Long as No Jogging is Involved)." We may have to work on that moniker. It could mean trouble for a business card. Small print is not the friend of the clientele they are courting.
Yes, Two Old Coots could provide a sentimental bridge to yesteryear for old biddies whose children have flown the coop, or widderwomen who miss their own old coots. Leaving dirty dishes throughout the house, perhaps in plain sight, perhaps not. Throwing soiled clothing on the floor. Leaving the toilet seat up. Tracking mud through the house. Eating treats meant for someone else. Turning the TV up really loud. Holding out various items they are tired of, just because they can't find a wastebasket and don't want to hold it themselves. Piling trash like a Jenga champion above the rim of the wastebasket.
I can't even begin to list the services Two Old Coots could offer.
We'll start booking them soon. Just dial NCAHOOT (rhymes with nincompoop). Reserve your Two Old Coots early, before the rush, as college season kicks into gear.