Tis The Doghouse Days Of Almost-Summer

When we last convened, Farmer H was relegated to the doghouse. The stinky smelly doghouse of Sweet, Sweet Juno, with something dead inside, which Farmer H said he was not investigating, because it would stop stinking in a few days.

So...yesterday I went to The Devil's Playground to do the shopping. It's like I go every day now. And I have figured out why. Last night, Farmer H returned from the auction around 8:15. He usually stays later, but he said he didn't see anything he wanted at the auction.

"I coulda got you a big roll of paper towels. Like that one the #1 son and his college buddy got you that time."

"I don't need THAT many!"

"They're all gone, now."

"What? They're all gone? Uh uh."

"Yeah. There's none of that pack left in his room."

"How's that? You brought the last roll out! And you didn't tell me it was the last one. I JUST WENT TO THE STORE TODAY! I could have gotten more! Now I'll have to go back tomorrow! There are only a couple left on the roll."

Let the record show that Farmer H NEVER brings out a new roll of paper towels. Even when it's just a double pack, with one in the pantry a few steps from the cutting block where the roll we use sits. In fact, he goes out of his way to leave that bare cardboard tube on the holder, with a few shreds of paper left clinging. But for some reason, he brought out the last two of the paper towel rolls left from the stash of about 12 that the boys had bought when I sent them into The Devil's Playground with my debit card.

I wonder if Farmer H wants me to pick up a roll of paper towels for Juno's his doghouse?