I didn't go to town on Monday! I don't know how long I'd gone without missing, but I'm pretty sure I broke my own record. The reason for my non-journey was twofold.
The Gas Station Chicken Store was out of Diet Coke on Sunday!
I know! Are you okay? Do I need to get the smelling salts? I also felt the room spinning when I saw that scrap of notebook paper taped to the spigot, proclaiming "OUT." I knew there would be no more until the supplier came. Usually on Tuesday. Methinks me knows too much about the operation of the GSCS. The Nice Guy Clerk actually looked it up in the delivery notebook. I was right.
Anyhoo...that day, I tried Diet Pepsi. NOOOO! Ptooey! Not good! Worse, even, than the PineSol tasting Diet Coke from Dairy Queen. No way was I paying for that again!
The other reason was the electric company. Roundaboutly. They are having a big limb cleanup, to prevent future outages. They've contracted a tree service to do the deed. They've been getting closer and closer, and were up in our gravel roads. So I had no wish to try squeezing T-Hoe past their behemoths.
I managed to survive on bottled Diet Coke and memories. I only had the tiny bottles. Did I tell that story? Can't remember. Anyhoo...my homemade elixir was tastier than the Diet Pepsi debacle. But I had to do without my scratchers, and relive past wins.
Farmer H was gone all day. He had a medical appointment in the afternoon, and went from there to his Monday auction. I asked him for one thing. ONE THING.
To bring the mail when he came home.
Well. That was apparently enough overload to cause a short circuit, because there was no mail to be found when I came upstairs at 3:30 a.m. When I next talked to Farmer H, he said HE FORGOT.
Seriously. He had ONE job to do. I'm glad that ONE job wasn't keeping my electrical cord for life support plugged into the wall.
I hate to leave my mail unattended for 24
hours, down on that lonely stretch of county road a mile from the Mansion.
There were two tax documents in there! And a bill! Plus casino offers, and five junk mail catalogs.
Good thing no thieves were in a mail-stealing mood on Monday night.
Oh no! No diet coke! That's a calamity of the highest magnitude. How dare they run out? Don't they keep an emergency supply in the back room just for you?
ReplyDeleteI'm guessing Farmer H had too much on his mind with the auction to remember something as insignificant (to him) as mail collection.
Ah, the retirement life. Where your big worry is whether or not they have diet Coke.
ReplyDeleteI could tell you about my 99 problems (every day)... but they're NOT a diet Coke debacle. (What's the song reference here?)
River,
ReplyDeleteThey should keep a defibrillator in the back room, to revive me when I find out there's no Diet Coke! It was back today, though. Farmer H knows there's nothing good in the mail for him, so he lacks interest in fetching it.
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Sioux,
I guess a female dog ain't one! Of your 99 problems, that is. As for the retirement life, going Diet Cokeless turns my day on its ear.
I never have to get the mail. HeWho likes to get the mail, and who am I to deprive him of life's little pleasures? Other chores, though, go undone without my constant encouragement (nagging)!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteI usually try to keep the mail-getting for myself, since one time I was with Farmer H, and witnessed him slipping an envelope into his back pocket. Nothing gets past Hillbilly Mom! It took three nags for Farmer H to admit the stashed envelope, and hand it to me. It was a refund check from our car insurance!