It was bad enough that I had to pick up his discarded candy wrappers in the hotel room on our Thanksgiving trip to see The Pony. It's not like HIS Popeye arm is in a cast. He needs to throw away his own dang trash!
It was even worse that on the same trip, I had to flush the toilet for him! Yeah. Only once. But isn't once more than enough???
"I don't want to look at your bubbly pee! Flush the dang toilet!"
"Oh. I thought I did."
It was ultimately worser that I sat in his pee! YIKES! That shouldn't happen to a professional pee-sitter!
"I can't believe I just sat in your pee! My whole right butt cheek and thigh are coated with it! I need to get home as fast as we can, to take a shower! I will be sitting on your pee for 10 hours!"
"Oh, quit being so dramatic. I usually wipe off the seat with a piece of toilet paper. I guess I forgot, since we were on the way out the door."
Yeah, right. That's horrific, but it was Tuesday, back at home, that put my teeth on edge like when Farmer H had told me that my stress at making a holiday meal RUINS HIS ENJOYMENT OF IT!
There I was, sitting in the La-Z-Boy, when Farmer H popped in before going over to his Freight Container Garage to
A short discussion ensued concerning our upcoming CasinoPalooza 3 with Genius and The Pony.
"We'll get there around 12:00, and meet them at Downstream. We can't check in until 3:00. So we can go to a few other casinos, like that one where we like their deli, and have lunch at it."
Let the record show that I've already mentioned this plan to Farmer H twice. Asking how he felt about it, and if he thought that would be a good use of time until we were able to check in. The other option had been playing right there at Downstream, eating lunch in their little grill, and then checking in when they allowed.
"So...where do you think we'll eat supper Saturday night? I just want to know, because I can't be having TWO buffets in one day again!"
"I don't know. I'll eat anywhere. It's you that's picky."
"As long as it's not two buffets, I can find something to eat. It's Genius on that keto kick, and The Pony who's picky about his food."
"I don't know. I just do whatever. You're the one who plans everything, and stuff comes up that doesn't always go along with the plan."
"It depends on when we try to check in. One time they let us check in at two."
"You need to figure out what you're doing. I haven't heard the plan."
"I just told you the plan! We'll go out to those farther away casinos, and have lunch, and then come back to the closer ones, and check in."
Sheesh! First he says I plan too much. Then he says I don't have a plan! I've told him that since the day we met, he's always been Mr. Opposite. He always says the opposite of what I say or do. Funny how he says, "No. YOU'RE the one who's opposite."
But that's just small potatoes compared to what Farmer H did next! I'd come up to make his supper at 3:00. He entered the Mansion around 3:30. The potatoes and carrots were already roasting in the oven. I was peeling onions to add to the roasting pan, getting ready to drape them with bacon and coat them with Hidden Valley Ranch powder. Farmer H came to the kitchen, and said he was getting his medicine.
"It's going to be an hour until it's ready. I already said we'd eat between 4:30 and 5:00, so you can go to that Christmas program. I thought you took the medicine right before you eat."
"I do. I can wait."
Well. I went back to put the ham in at 4:15. It was already pre-cooked, and sliced. Just needed warming. I draped some bacon over it so it wouldn't dry out. I put the rolls in the oven. Here came Farmer H, like a cat hearing a can-opener, or my dogs hearing the kitchen door. I told him another 15 minutes, so he went to take his medicine, and came right back.
"Well. Since you're in here. You can put the bacon in a container while I rub some butter on top of the rolls."
Of course he used a plastic fork that won't stab. Instead of the tongs I recommended for grabbing bacon. Then he got out a slotted spoon for dishing potatoes and carrots, and couldn't close the drawer because he'd dislodged a wide spatula. Then he hit the foil I'd removed from the top of the rolls with a bacon slice each time he lifted it from the pan to the container, because he'd not had the sense to put that foil out of his way. Then he dipped himself some potatoes and carrots, and laid the slotted spoon so it flipped out of the roaster pan, spattering bacon drippings on the stovetop. THEN the foil from the rolls slid off the canisters where he'd laid it, down over other stuff that didn't need bacon-greasing.
But here's the last straw. Farmer H reached for a paper plate to put his rolls on. They're in a wooden holder that says "Everyday China." There's been a problem with the last pack of paper plates I got from Save A Lot. They stick together. More than usual. You need two hands to wrest them apart, and one of them gets kind of maimed in the process. There will be two stuck plates, a single one, two stuck, a single one. You know how it goes. It always seems like whenever I need a plate, they're stuck together. I pry them apart, and put one back.
Now Farmer H reached for a plate, and got the two stuck together. He PUT THEM BACK, and reached behind them for a single. But there wasn't a single. I guess he'd been in the kitchen a few times, and taken all the singles a good ways back.
"YOU'RE the one who keeps taking the single plates! You take what's in front! Peel them apart!"
"Then do it for me."
"WHAT?"
"Get me a plate! They're stuck together."
"I know that! Why don't you do it yourself? Are you helpless?"
"Well. You're in my way."
"I wasn't in your way when you grabbed the stuck-together plates out of there!"
"Just do it."
"I can't believe you! It's like I'm taking care of a toddler!"
Dang it! At least a toddler is lovable. Sometimes.
4 comments:
One thing I hate about your American toilets is the amount of water in them, so your butt cheeks get wet if you sit too low. I also hate people peeing on the seat and not wiping that up, but they're everywhere, not at all exclusive to your country.
My third child is a messy cook and server too, drives me nuts, but at least we don't live together. I just go there once or twice a week and give her kitchen a 'deep clean'. Mostly to get myself out of the house otherwise I'd be glued to the bed/chair/recliner forever.
River,
I guess most places have gone to a low-flush model, because I haven't had that problem. Now if a guy leaves the seat up in the dark, a person could fall in, with no seat to land on.
You're right about those pee-ers being everywhere. On the trip back, I also sat in somebody's pee, and got my LEFT thigh and butt-cheek soaked. Darn that somebody for being all hydrated, and leaving invisible clear pee on the seat!
I imagine Genius is pretty clean in his kitchen, since he likes to cook. The Pony follows in Farmer H's footsteps. One time I made Stove Top Stuffing for him, one of his favorites (comes in a box, only takes five minutes). I have no idea how he splattered stuffing all over the stove and floor. It looked like there had been an explosion in a Thanksgiving Turkey Dinner factory!
My kids like to cook too, but that doesn't equal a clean kitchen. That only happens in my kitchen, because I clean as I go, then wash up all the prep dishes while whatever I've made is simmering or baking.
My kids kitchen, (the younger two share a house) often looks like something exploded and I've named the stove/sink area The Grease Pit, because they like to fry.
River,
The Grease Pit! At least they can cook...
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