Farmer H has been at it again. I swear that man is trying to kill me by goading me into a fit of apoplexy! He had his requested chili dogs Thursday night for supper. I'd tried to entice him into Gas Station Chicken, but he said he'd rather have the chili dogs.
It's not like chili dogs are hard to make. I just cover an old pizza pan with foil, and slide the hot dogs into the oven while I warm a can of storebought Hot Dog Sauce, as they label it, on the back burner. Takes about 10 minutes. 15 tops, if you count dicing an onion for him, and pouring some pre-packaged cheddar cheese into a bowl.
Oh, yes! That's a must. Otherwise, Farmer H thinks nothing of digging his hands of questionable hygiene into the bag. I learned this lesson years ago. Uh huh. I get everything all ready for him. Short of laying out his buns. They might get stale. It's not my fault Farmer H grabs the OLDEST package of buns, which have already expired, and reaches inside (I'm not as finicky about my buns as I am about my cheese) and grabs a moldy one!
Anyhoo... I had everything ready. I'd set the pan with the hot dogs on the other back burner, on top of the better pizza pan, which I leave sitting there in case I need two pans, or a tray. Farmer H had already fixed his plate. I was kind of proud of him, except for the buns. He was almost self-sufficient! Even though he'd left the fork laying on the counter. The one I'd laid out for him, because he said he uses a fork, but no knife. Turns out he uses a serving spoon to eat his chili dogs. The one that had been used for the hot dog sauce.
Anyhoo... Farmer H had put his hot dogs on the buns, covered them with the sauce. The whole can, but he DID ask if I wanted any. I did not. I'd made myself a hot dog as well, but was planning to have SLAW with it! He had sprinkled on his cheese from the bowl. And topped that with the diced onions.
Yes, Farmer H had his whole plate ready to go, and started for his La-Z-Boy to feast. But then he came back! Still holding his plate in his right hand. "I do think I'll use this tray." He reached for the other pizza pan with his left hand. As I was screaming, "WAIT!" And trying to grab the hot dog pan.
Uh huh. Farmer H tried to pick up the better pizza pan under the worse pizza pan that still held my hot dog. Do you know what happens to a hot dog when the pan it's laying on is tilted?
All the way to the edge of the stove, where it jumps the little lip edge UNLESS MRS. HM IS THERE TO GRAB IT WITH HER FINGERS!
That's after the rescue, when I laid it back on the pan. Good thing I have cat-like reflexes! There would have been NOT-HEAVEN TO PAY if my hot dog rolled onto the floor! It was the last one!
If Farmer H wasn't so gosh-darn impatient, I could have picked up my hot dog, or gotten the pan off of the one he wanted to use. Any fool knows that you don't just tilt up a pizza pan to slide it out from under a pizza pan holding a hot dog!
Farmer H isn't just any fool, I guess.