Incident Number 1,367 That Is Going On Farmer H's Permanent Record

Stranger than fiction! Farmer H cooked his own lunch Thursday! Of course, with the good...also comes the bad. Even Steven is not floating Mrs. Hillbilly Mom a break any time soon. No siree, Bob!

Farmer H said he was going to a new auction, with a guy he often auctions with. This one was just past Farmer H's old work town, and the buddy would be driving.

"He says to meet him at 3:30, but last time he got there by 3:15, so I'll leave here around 2:55 in case he's waiting for me. You don't have to cook supper. I'll get something there."

"What are you having for lunch. I was just leaving for town."

"Did you throw away the last piece of my ham steak? I think you gave it to the dogs."

"I don't remember that, but it's possible. I don't see it here on the shelf."

"I was going to fry myself some ham and eggs."

"There's plenty of eggs. You can use that sliced ham I got for after Easter."

"Okay. That's what I'll have."

Off I went to town, after laying out three slices of ham for Farmer H. Because he's helpless like that, with questionable hand hygiene. I thought I'd need to put away the remainder of the new pack of sliced ham, but as luck would have it, the package had a ziplock top.

I should have known all this good luck flowing my way was going to result in an EVENING by Steven. Farmer H gone all afternoon and night, making his own lunch so I didn't have to, and getting off easy with putting away the ham. Sweet Gummi Mary! That was like a vacation inside retirement!

When I got back home, I was SHOCKED to see that Farmer H had washed the skillet he used to cook his lunch! One more good luck tally!

I got ready to add some Cherry Limeade powder to my 44 oz Diet Coke, and put my pinwheels on my lunch tray to descend to my dark basement lair. By now, it was already 2:30, and close to Farmer H's departure time. I turned from washing my hands at the sink, and reached for the select-a-size paper towel I had left laying on the cutting block. They can be re-used, you know, after drying clean hands on them.

IT WAS GONE!

I was sure I'd left that paper towel. I'd used it to dry my hands after washing the dishes that morning before Farmer H came home from town. It was drying there when I left. But now it was gone.

"Hey! What happened to my paper towel? From the cutting block?"

"Oh. Uh. I used that. To wipe the counter after I cooked. Then I threw it away."

Funny how I saw, on the counter, a DOUBLE select-a-size paper towel, folded over, halfway crumpled. I didn't even bother to ask Farmer H why he tore off two paper towels to use, left their remains, but needed to finish off MY paper towel.

Yes. It DOES matter. I'm RETIRED, you know. I don't have much else to think about.