The Incredulous Smirk

I've been a little rough on Farmer H lately. Not that I feel guilty. I'd go crazy if I didn't have this little outlet to complain about him. Say something to him that I might really feel guilty for. He has his good qualities, but they don't make good blog tales.

Farmer H seems to think that I'm his personal servant. Sweet Gummi Mary! I don't know how he ever got that idea! I've never catered to him. He just feels entitled. I know he can take care of himself. He used to have his own apartment when he was between wives.

Perhaps you remember the time I found a banana peel stuffed into the cushions of the La-Z-Boy. And the toenail clippings in the candle on the mantel of the fake fireplace. Surely you remember the couch paper plate that sat there for three days. It was a fairly recent infraction.

Last Saturday, when we got back from the casino, I called Farmer H out on the Diet Mountain Dew bottle that he apparently intended to leave in T-Hoe. I was dropping him off at his Trailblazer at the Storage Unit Store, and he got out, leaving that bottle in the cup holder.

"Hey! Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No. I don't think so. I've got my keys."

"That bottle! Don't go leaving your trash in here for me!"

"HM! It still has some soda in it!" Farmer H held up the bottle, to show about an inch of liquid in the bottom.

"Take it! I'm not dealing with it."

And that's when Farmer H gave me an incredulous smirk. Shook his head slowly. Made an exaggerated motion of removing the bottle. AS IF I was the one making an unreasonable demand.

Flash forward to one night last week. I'd fixed Farmer H his supper (a large baked potato with BBQ pulled pork on top), and was sitting on the short couch to converse with him until he took off for one of his five auctions. I handed him a stack of 8 sets of insurance updates, three pages each. He's been calling our insurance agent to change the coverage on some of the vehicles, since he no longer drives them a long distance to work. And also changing coverage on the Gator, Scout, and 4-wheelers, since they're older now, and the value is less.

As Farmer H was getting ready to leave, I stood up to go back to the kitchen. I knew he would leave all those insurance papers laying on the table until I got sick of them and picked them up. I figured I might as well get it over with now. They weren't papers we needed. Just notifications to make sure we had the coverage we want now.

"Give me your trash," I said, holding out my hand for the insurance papers.

Farmer H reached out those papers, stacked on top of his paper plate and paper towel and knife and fork and soda bottle!

"Are you KIDDING ME? I'm NOT taking all your trash! You're not an invalid! Take your own trash. I just meant the insurance papers."

Farmer H tried to reason that I was taking the insurance papers to the trash. So what could the other stuff matter.

"I am sick of being the one to pick up after you! You're an adult! I've been stepping over these popcorn kernels that you don't seem to see. There was even one in your chair! You FINALLY picked up the paper plate on the couch. I'M NOT YOUR MAID!"

Yeah. I got the incredulous smirk again. But Farmer H threw away his supper plate and put his silverware by the sink.

Guess I showed HIM!