And I Could Use A Ball-Nozzle Dispenser Bottle For Diet Mountain Dew, Too

Farmer H has moved himself from the Mansion to the doghouse once again. I know you're shocked to hear that. Even though a long, long, long, long time ago, I told you of how he tried to make the Mansion his own personal doghouse by putting a dog pillow on the marital bed.

Anyhoo...you might remember back only to yesterday, when Farmer H told me that he wouldn't be home for supper on time, so I got him a Subway sandwich. At the time, we discussed (meaning I talked, and Farmer H heard, "Wah wah wah" like Charlie Brown's teacher) how I had been planning to make a meat loaf and roasted veggies. I told him I would make them instead today, when he would be home like normal.

This morning I spent 45 minutes getting the vegetables ready. I put them in the oven and babysat them for two hours. Because you really shouldn't take a shower and go to town while leaving your baby in the oven. You don't know what might happen while you're gone. I also used the time to put together the meat loaf. I made some trash doing that, like the hamburger tray, and eggshells. Smelly trash if you let it hang around. Since the kitchen trash was almost full, and the hamburger tray was barely balanced on top (even though the eggshells fit quite nicely into yesterday's 44 oz cup), I bagged that trash and took it out to the dumpster.

With the veggies out of the oven, and the meat loaf inside Frig II, I went to get my 44 oz Diet Coke and the mail. Can you believe it? Farmer H got a bunch of coupons from a casino! He barely even plays, by cracky! That's discrimination, sending comps to the man who barely plays, while ignoring the woman who pays the payroll at least a month out of the year.

By the time I got home, it was 1:30. That meant my lunch wasn't ready until 2:00. And at 4:30, I had to leave my dark basement lair to put in the meat loaf and warm the vegetables. I sat down to watch the tail-end of Jeopardy (the Final Jeopardy answer was SMOG), but missed who won because the phone rang and I had to hoist myself out of the La-Z-Boy to get it. Oh. It was Farmer H. He was just leaving work.

Sweet Gummi Mary! That would put him 45 minutes late getting home! Farmer H, so perceptive to the emotions of others, sensed my distress.

"What's the matter?"

"I put your supper in the oven 15 minutes ago."

"You said yesterday you weren't making anything."

"Yes. YESTERDAY I didn't make anything. I told you at least 5 times that I was going to make that meat loaf today!"

"Well, I can still eat it. But I have to stop in town for a minute. And then HOS is coming out to help me put the cover on the pool."

"Fine. I'll leave it on the stove and you can get yours later. You'll have to put everything away, though."

"Okay. I'll see you later."

Huh. Ain't that a fine how-do-you-do? I spend all that time making him a meal that will be eaten in 10 minutes, and he can't even pay enough attention to let me know if he's running late. Now if nothing special was going on, he would have called me five or six times throughout the day, just to see what I was doing.

I conceded the battle and started packing up the leftovers when it was done. No need to let it sit out for food poisoning until Farmer H deigned to sup. And here he came in the door! What a mean trick that was, arriving just as I had the dishwater ready and the food put up.

This is why Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is loathe to spend half her day preparing food, and a sixth of her day cleaning up, just so Farmer H can have 10 minutes of feasting.

Sometimes, I would like to find a feeder like you give a hamster, or cats, or chickens, where you fill it up and food comes out the bottom as your pet eats.

Don't go thinkin' Farmer H is my pet.