Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is salty today, my blogfriends. Salty, and steamed. Part of our well-seasoned Hillmomba-dweller's saltiness and steaminess is due to the temperature as she writes this (Thursday). The other part is due to her general, all-around surliness.
Whew! When the Devil's playground feels chilly compared to outside temps, nothing good is going to happen for Mrs. HM. I took the dumpster up the driveway before leaving for town. That's because I was putting a bag of trash in it anyway. It's not like Farmer H is going to do something like that, even though I bag up the full garbage, tie a tight knot in the top, and put it in his path. I think I nearly lost consciousness at the end of the driveway. And that was when it was only 86 degrees. Right now, at 5:27 p.m., it's 93, and feels like 107.
The humidity must have been near 99% when I left home around 11:30. The front window was fogged over. The outside doorknob was covered with a layer of condensation. Indeed, my mini bubba cup of ice water immediately broke out in a sweat. My own sweat did not evaporate until I got down the road a bit in T-Hoe, with the air conditioning feeling cool for once. My face was crusted with salt like a Texas Roadhouse baked potato.
But I'm not here to give you yesterday's weather report! I'm here to cast aspersions on humanity! I think I've figured out one reason why we're all hurtling towards Not-Heaven in my proposed handbaskets. People need to be more butt-holey. There. I've said it.
I'm not talking about the people who are butt-wipes. No, there's no help for them. Once a butt-wipe, always a butt-wipe. I'm talking about people who go out of their way to be nice. NICE TO THE BUTT-WIPES! That has got to stop, people.
On my way to town, a truck appeared out of nowhere. I know my blacktop road. I know where there are driveways. I'm familiar with people's vehicles. I check T-Hoe's rearview mirror. There was nothing behind me almost the whole two miles to the county lettered highway. The first sight I got was in front of the house where my mom ran over a dog. Didn't hurt him, but the boys chided her for it forever. Anyhoo...I have no idea where this truck came from so fast.
It was white. A commercial truck of some kind. A pickup with a rack in the bed. It must have been going about 70 to come up on me like that. I, myself, go 50-55 on this road, even though (ha ha ha) the county put up a 35 mph sign years ago. It didn't last long.
Anyhoo...after I passed the prison, I slowed down from 55 (legal limit on the county lettered highway) to 45, the in-town speed limit. When I crested the hill by Farmer H's Storage Unit Store, I slowed to 30 as the posted limit decreased. I'm pretty sure the driver of that white truck was cursing my law-abidingness.
At the first stoplight, White Truck pulled up on my right, in the other lane. The one that runs out at the third light. It's pretty much a right-turn only, because that lane peters out a few yards past the intersection. If you're not turning into the corner liquor store, you're screwed. When the light went green, I figured White Truck would try to get ahead of me to set himself up for that third stoplight. Of course I wasn't asleep at the wheel. White Truck gunned it, but didn't try to cut over. He stayed in the right lane through the second light, then cruised past a line of 7 cars waiting at the third.
OF COURSE some do-goody in a little red sports car let White Truck veer in when that light turned green! WHYYYY! Nancy Kerrigan's whine cannot begin to do justice to the wails of Mrs. HM when White Truck got his way, having pretty much cut line ahead of us at the light.
Seriously. Just dessets need to be served on a heaping platter! So these butt-wipe people get a taste of vigilante justice.
Oh, yeah. When White Truck passed me on the right, I could see that it was an AUTO GLASS truck! Full of a rack of windshields in the back. Even if I could remember the company name, and look up the number, I wouldn't call to report that driver. Times are tough. I don't want to cost anyone a job, just for being a butt-wipe. But you can bet I had no qualms about putting the kibosh on an intended traffic merge.
I have a feeling that Karma and Even Steven might be in the market for glassware one of these days.
4 comments:
I've seen similar butt-wipe people weaving through traffic, changing lanes the minute there's a gap in the lane next to them, always trying to get ahead of everyone else, but sooner or later they come up against a stream of slower traffic and when we get to a red light, there they are too, having go no further than the rest of us. Ha Ha. Then there was the time hubby and three other cars completely boxed in another (stolen) car, preventing him from escaping the Police car that was tailing him with lights and sirens.
River,
Ooh! That's a cool story, but I would have been freaking out!
It was actually kind of fun. We could see him dodging through traffic with the police following and when the road narrowed, going from three lanes to two under a bridge, hubby and the cars directly in front and to the sides held their places tight so the stolen car wouldn't be able to squeeze through. The stolen car drew level with the car right behind us, but then had nowhere to go as the police car drew up right behind him and we all slowly came to a stop. We were on our way to work at the time.
River,
I love it when ne'er-do-wells get their comeuppance! It's even better when you have a hand in it.
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