Trapped Like The Rat That I Am

Saturday morning, Mrs. HM was trapped, my blogfriends! Trapped like a rat in a Mansion! And by morning, I mean 11:45 a.m.

Farmer H was selling at his Storage Unit Store. I'd sent him a few texts. The first being about watching that show with Jack and Ozzy Osbourne, when they stopped in Missouri. They were at Genius's old college, blowing things up with explosives. Farmer H responded to that one. The next was asking if he spent $47.13 on the debit card without giving me a receipt, and the third about what he might want for supper if he was going to the auction. I figured he'd get around to answering, but I wasn't waiting on him. I'd been up since 9:30 (DON'T JUDGE), and it was time to drive to town for my magical elixir.

Let the record show that I lounge around the Mansion in my pajamas until I'm ready to head for town. Then I take a shower, and put on town clothes. I was walking towards the bedroom/master bathroom area, across the living room, behind the couch, when I heard all three dogs going crazy. I turned to look out the front window, and saw a long black car (a ritzy one for out here, big as a Lincoln Town Car) signaling with a blinker to turn into the Mansion driveway. NOBODY does that out here on these gravel roads. Sweet Gummi Mary! They hardly do it in town.

I don't know anybody with a black Lincoln Town Car! I haven't seen one driving around out here. It came from farther up in the compound, so it had already gone past the Mansion at some point without me noticing it. Probably in the ungodly hours before 9:30 a.m.

Anyhoo...no way was I opening the door to a strange car, me in my pajamas with bedhead, and Farmer H all the way in town and not checking his phone. I twisted the mini-blinds closed, turned off the TV, and went into the bathroom to pretend I wasn't home. The dogs kept barking, over at the carport end of the house. I heard THUMPING on the porch. Yes. I'm sure it wasn't my own heart. It was THUMPING on the porch.

I waited for the doorbell, or a knock at the door, so I could ignore it. But it never came! So either a person was standing on my porch and not trying to see if anyone was home, or the THUMPING was one of the dogs running back up on the porch. I could still hear dogs, though, barking across the front yard, and towards the BARn.

I crept to the bedroom door, to see if there was a silhouette outside those wavy-glass side windows that flank the front door. There was not. I listed for more THUMPING, which would mean the stranger was leaving. I heard none. I snuck over to look out the frosted glass french doors at Poolio. Not a ripple. No way was I opening up the door to look for that car!

My heart slowed down, and I figured the car must have left. Right? Yeah. Surely. I took a shower and got dressed and THEN looked out, but saw no car and no dogs.

When interrogated later that afternoon, Farmer H said he knows of no car by that description that belongs out here. He thought maybe it was somebody wanting to pay him for a portion of the road gravel, but I suggested that such a person would know our name to look up the house phone number, or most likely tell him on Facebook that they were coming by to pay. And we'd be familiar with that car.

Still a mystery. All I can think is that maybe it was a politician, out glad-handing the constituents. Farmer H has allowed a couple candidates he knows to put signs in our front yard/field. The fancy car would fit in with a campaigner going to every house.