You know Farmer H plans to retire in December, right? You might want to invest in earplugs now. I don't care HOW far away you live! I'm giving you the opportunity to prevent profound hearing loss.
Today we went to the casino. Rather, I paid Farmer H to drive me to the casino. That's what it amounts to, what with me giving him my hard-won scratcher profits to play away to nothing. Except today, I think he won a little. Which I did not. I'm sure I could have recouped my losses, had he only allowed me to play longer. I was actually breaking even about 20 minutes before time to leave, but I threw good money after bad in a frenzy of wild abandon. Because HEY! I had to leave in 20 minutes! Who knows how long before I get to play again?
Anyhoo...we were supposed to leave at 2:00. I had just hit a mini jackpot, and had 153 credits (in quarters, so that's $38.25 to the mathily-challenged) on my machine. Common sense would say to cash it out. Break even. Okay, break within $1.75 of even. But who's counting? Not Mrs. HM, that's for sure. I looked around. Didn't see Farmer H. "Oh. I have a few more minutes to play!" I sent a quick text to him, "Where are you ?" I didn't know if he was expecting to meet me at the money machine, or if he was playing some last-minute windfall himself.
Just as I hit SEND, I saw him walking towards me. I held up my phone. "Oh. I just sent you a text to see where you were. Do you mind if I play this until I hit FREE PLAY?" That's how I won my mini jackpot, you see. 12 free plays, with one of them also being 12 more free plays, and it all added up to my tidy windfall. Which I proceeded to play down to nothing, the pall of Farmer H hovering over my machine draining the life force from my innate lucky bone.
So...Farmer H drove us home. He was kind of cranky, I don't know why, you'd think a man who was handed a stack of cash in the low three figures to have his way with for the day, and having some left over for the first time in forever, would have been more congenial. But he had been snippy all day. Because, he said, he has THINGS TO DO! Perhaps he should have done them over the two days he took off work, and Saturday, rather than lay around the shanty calling Mrs. HM to check on her whereabouts on Thursday.
Anyhoo...when we got home, Farmer H stopped A-Cad so I could climb out before he pulled into the too-small garage. I petted Puppy Jack and my Sweet, Sweet Juno while he parked and unlocked the door. By the time I entered through the kitchen, Farmer H was already slamming the front door. Oh, well. I gathered my purse (you don't carry a purse in the casino) and left in T-Hoe to get my 44 oz Diet Coke. It was 3:30. I figured Farmer H was off doing his STUFF. Not that he bothered to tell me. Just disappeared. The dogs were gone, so I figured he was over at the BARn or Shackytown as I backed out of the garage.
When I came home, Farmer H was mowing along the far corner of the second property. He glared at me from under his Farmer in the BARNYARD movie hat, and turned the mower like he was making a row back the way he had come. I blew past him (at 20 mph) in a cloud of dust. I might have let out a chuckle. Don't quote me on that.
WELL! The minute I got inside and set my magical elixir on the kitchen counter to add Cherry Limeade powder, Farmer H was storming through the front door.
"I can't BELIEVE you can't hear a lawnmower!"
"What does that even mean?"
"This text you sent me!" [in a mocking tone] "Where ARE you? I was right out there mowing the yard the whole time!"
"Um. If you bothered to even check, I sent that to you at the casino. At 2:01 p.m. So you need to know what you're talking about before you come in here yelling at ME!"
"Oh. At 2:02...well...Where were YOU?"
"Where do I go every day? To get my soda. You know that."
"You never even told me you were going."
"You didn't tell me where you were going."
"I was mowing the yard! I ALWAYS tell you where I'm going!"
"You never do. I wake up and you're gone for four or five hours. I went to town for 30 minutes."
"I don't tell you because you're ASLEEP! How am I supposed to tell you?"
"Um. Text? So I'll see it when I get up? Or a note on a paper plate like you used to write?"
"Well. That's stupid. To go off to town and not even tell me! I'm going to get gas!"
"Okay. I'm making supper. It will be sitting on the stove. Getting cold. And old."
Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think I had left home at 6:00 a.m. and returned after noon, saying after the fact that I had gone to get a haircut! Oh, wait! That was Farmer H who did that.
Delicate hothouse flower Farmer H needs to get over himself by December.