He's done it again. Farmer H got my goat.
Oh, he doesn't plot and finagle and do it consciously. It just happens, by way of his lax household skills. As if it's not bad enough that he abandons his ripe bananas like a foundling on a doorstep, with nary another thought. He also believes that packaging is permanent.
Here's what I found in Frig II at noon after braving the first-weekend-of-the-month, Friday-before-a-holiday, Devil's Playground shoppers:
Uh huh. You know that individual tub of puddin' would have collapsed without its giant cardboard package, right? That's why Farmer H left it there. A giant cardboard package, protecting a single individual tub of puddin'. I daresay Farmer H would have left the packaging on the back of the top shelf of Frig II by itself, even after taking the last individual tub of puddin'. But...we'll never have that data, because I threw it away and put the last individual tub of puddin' back on the top shelf of Frig II.
Farmer H probably won't eat it now. He'll think there's something wrong with it.
No, the tub of frosting in the corner of the photo isn't for Farmer H. I'm not trying to send him into a coma. YET. That's for the Oreo cake I will be baking this week for Farmer H to deliver to The Pony when he visits him in Oklahoma.
And the scarred cutting block is a huge thick one on metal legs that was saved from the cleanout of the basement of Farmer H's old knife-making factory, before his current employer lured him away the year that the #1 son was born.