The Hours I Cursed, So Peeved

You might think that Mrs. HM has the world by the tail, now that Farmer H is retired, spending his days prepping his Storage Unit Store, and his nights with a new drug delivery job. But you'd be wrong!

I don't expect much. Just time to myself each day, when I don't have to do anything other than what I want to do. TWO HOURS! That's all I need to be happy. Two hours, to sit down with my 44 oz Diet Coke, a lunch of Chicken Bacon Ranch Pinwheels from The Devil's Playground. A side of green olives. Some BBQ chips. Lottery tickets to scratch. Music and internet on my New Delly. No, not much to ask for at all.

I don't begrudge making Farmer H's supper. Not even making his dining decisions for him, and cleaning up his mess. I sit down to chat with him so he has companionship, even though he prefers to feed with his legs kicked up in his La-Z-Boy. And barely even grunts in response.

Farmer H never has time to chat. Whether it be about our new supplemental optical and dental insurance, or The Pony's random communiques, or which household fixtures need some fine-tuning. He'll pace through the kitchen, or stand with his hand on the doorknob, not really listening, but waiting for me to stop. Or he walks off to the bedroom or bathroom mid-sentence. And just two nights ago, I turned to gauge his response to a statement in my dark basement lair, and he was already halfway up the steps. He was the opposite of The Sidler. He didn't need Tic-Tacs in his pocket to warm me of his arrival, but so I'd know he abandoned me once again.

Yes, it's funny how Farmer H has absolutely nothing to say to me, nor nothing he wants to hear from me, for 22 hours a day.

However...

DURING MY TWO HOURS OF SOLITUDE, HE MUST SEEK ME OUT!!!

How does that even work? The only time Farmer H has for me is during the very two hours that I set aside for my lunch and relaxation. No matter how much I try to preserve my alone-time, there he is. I can call him beforehand, to see what he's doing. Where he is. When he expects to come in the house. What time he wants supper. Tell him everything pertinent to the immediate situation. And STILL, he turns up at the portal of my dark basement lair when I'm in the middle of sucking a pimento out of an olive, with Spotify on New Delly's screen, awaiting the day's choice of tunes, my tickets at my elbow, ready for a scratchin'.

Uh huh. He did that to me Thursday. And Wednesday. And Tuesday. And Monday, I even called him down to watch a DVR of Yellowstone that he'd asked for, on the big screen, with permission to sit in my OPC (Old People Chair) as long as he didn't have a snack in it. Yellowstone, the first episode of the new Kevin Costner series, which was two hours long. STILL, he showed up at my office door.

Seriously! On Thursday, I had come up the driveway, and due to the running of the dogs, noticed Farmer H over on Shackytown Boulevard, standing behind his Gator, with his cell phone to his ear. I waited for a moment, switching radio stations in T-Hoe in the garage. Getting the mail settled in my purse. Putting my 44 oz Diet Coke on the console for easy reach. Waited. Just in case, you know, Farmer H might be coming over to help me carry in groceries, having seen the dogs run to the garage, and T-Hoe in the driveway.

Can you believe that I did NOT hear the Gator approach? By the time I had carried six bags, and two 4-packs of Strawberry Water, and a 6-pack of Diet Mountain Dew, and a 6-pack of Diet Coke to the side porch...I heard a chainsaw start. I wasn't sure where it was coming from. At first, I thought it might be from behind me, from Copper Jack's human daddy next door. Even though I pass him going back to work in town after lunch every day.

I was dripping with sweat. This heat has been miserable. I took in my purse and magical elixir and the mail, got the door unlocked, and came back out to carry everything the rest of the way into the Mansion, and put it away. I was tired and sweaty, and sat down for a rest to cool off, before getting my lunch together. I called Farmer H.

"What are you doing?"

"Leveling the sheds."

"I thought you might help me carry in the stuff, but it's done now."

"Oh. Well. I didn't know. I was running the chainsaw. I'm coming in at 2:30 to take a shower before going to the auction. I'm meeting my buddy at 3:15."

"It's already 2:10. You won't have much time. I'm not waiting another 20 minutes to talk to you. I'm getting my lunch ready."

Really? Leveling the sheds? I kind of think that ship has sailed. I don't think there has been an issue with them sitting unleveled all this time. And Farmer H is notorious for showing up right after the groceries are put away.

Can you believe that with only 30 minutes to shower and leave for town...Farmer H found time to come down to my dark basement lair and chat with me?

"Huh. What did you win today?"

"I haven't even had time to scratch them yet! You're always down here during my ONLY TWO HOURS that I want for myself!"

"Okay then."

I'm pretty sure this life lesson for Farmer H will not be retained.