Farmer H, My Arch Nemesis

As if you didn't already know that! Farmer H sometimes acts like he's my arch nemesis! I take that back. He's not acting. No Oscar for Farmer H! Unless it's of the Grouch variety, and he buys it for himself at an auction.

Before we left for BirthdayPalooza, Farmer H was out and about, picking up his medicine, and probably buying clandestine Casey's donuts. I was also out and about. At my own pharmacy, which is a couple blocks from Farmer H's. I don't see eye-to-eye with them. Even when I am tasked with picking up Farmer H's medications, they somehow manage to leave one out of the bag, and a return trip is needed.

Anyhoo... I wasn't at my pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. I was looking for arch supports. The kind you put inside your shoes. DUH! As if anyone would put an arch support OUTSIDE her shoe. I say her, because it probably could happen with a him. Ever since I hurt my ankle and developed what I think is Posterior Tibial Tendinitis, it helps to have an arch support in that shoe. I wanted some for other shoes, for all the casino-walking we'd be doing on BirthdayPalooza.

My pharmacy is smaller than CeilingRed's, where drug-seeking Farmer H goes. As Even Steven must have decreed, my pharmacy had all manner of foot aids, except arch supports. Oh, well. I was hoping to save myself a trip to The Devil's Playground. Even coming up empty-footed on arch supports from my pharmacy, I was in no mood to go all the way to Next Town. Not today, Devil!

On the way home, it hit me. I should have checked in CeilingRed's! I called Farmer H, but he'd already been there. He said he'd go back, though. I described exactly what I needed. In detail. Do you think Farmer H was listening? I'm pretty sure he had a look on his face like our old dog Grizzly, if I'd read him the instruction manual for flying a 747. Just to be sure, I said,

"When you think you've found them, email me a picture. To make sure it's the right thing. It takes too long to load a picture when you text."

Note that I SPECIFICALLY said to email me the picture. With the reason why.

About 15 minutes later, Farmer H called me. "I'm in the store. They don't have none. I sent you a picture. All they have are ball supports. For the ball of your foot."

"Okay. I have to hang up to find the picture. I'll call you back."

Well. There was NO picture. No pic. So it didn't happen, I guess!

"I don't have a picture. I can't believe they have ball supports and not arch supports."

"Well, they do. I SENT the picture."

After a bit of prodding and virtual torture with virtual spikes shoved under his virtual fingernails... Farmer H admitted that he had TEXTED me the picture. So all the time I'd wasted on looking for an email was never being restored to the end of my life.

"Is this it?"

"No. That's for the ball of the foot. Where your toes meet the foot. NOT the arch. Show me the whole aisle. I bet they have them."

"No. But that gives me hope. When we come back to town tonight for the funeral home, I'm going in there to look."

Sadly, CeilingRed's did NOT have any arch supports! But I found them in Norman, Oklahoma, when we took The Pony to the local Devil's Playground.

I got two packs. Of course, my foot hurt while walking through the store looking for them...