Yes, Farmer H is killin' me! I'm not so sure this was an actual attempt. Kind of like his antics described yesterday, when trying to throw away a soda cup.
There we were, tooling along central Oklahoma in A-Cad, when Farmer H started his rant. I'm not even sure what set him off. Perhaps he was trying to garner sympathy from The Pony in the back seat. Heh, heh! We all know what a futile attempt THAT would be! The Pony cares not for helping people.
Anyhoo...the general topic was that I am mean to Farmer H. I'll own that. He gets what he deserves. But I will NOT own this specific blame he was trying to pin on me.
"You're even mean to me when I'm sleeping!"
"I don't think so. I'm so GLAD you're sleeping...why would I do anything that might accidentally wake you?"
"When you come to bed, you do all kinds of things to my arm!"
Sweet Gummi Mary! Exactly WHAT was Farmer H insinuating? What did he think I was doing to his arm? Bending it back at the elbow, twisting the bones apart like a chicken wing? Boiling it in oil? Using it as a pincushion? Stubbing out my nighttime cigars on his flesh? Tattooing his own phone number on his forearm so he can remember his Casey's account?
"Sure. At 3:00 or 4:00 a.m., as I'm coming to bed, I want to take extra time to torture you. All I do is move your arm, because you have it stretched out across my pillow. What do you want me to do, lay down on it? I can do that."
"No."
"If I wake you and ask you to move it, then you'll be mad because I woke you. All I do is lift your arm and put it on your side of the bed."
"And you're not at all gentle about it!"
Well. That got me to laughing SO HARD that I couldn't breathe. The very idea that I should treat Farmer H's arm like it was spun glass, or a fragile container of nitroglycerin! Every time I tried to be a smartass right back to him, I was overcome with wheezy giggles. FINALLY, I was able to squeak out:
"What do you expect me to do, wrap it in cotton and gauze, and lift it with a sling made of silk?"
The Pony was smirking in the back seat. I know it's not all that funny, but you just had to be there, and see and hear Farmer H's indignation because I DARED move his arm out of the way before I lay down to sleep.
When actually I should be the one who's indignant, having my sleep space invaded by the long arm of Farmer H.
7 comments:
Considering how hard that man of yours works to support you, I'd think you would be treating him with more kindness. Caress that arm before you gently nudge it over. Smooth down the armhair as you make sure his arm is in a comfortable position. He deserves a nice night of sleep every night, that hardworking man of yours.
Does he wake up when you move his arm? Because if he DOESN'T then he doesn't have a leg to stand on, since you're obviously gentle enough to not wake him.
Sioux,
Yes, I need to import some lotions, and massage that arm until it is virtually as boneless as tenderized meat. THEN SLAP IT IN THE MIDDLE OF A GEORGE FOREMAN GRILL!!!
***
River,
Sometimes, he kind of grunts or huffs, but continues spewing regular breaths out of his breather. He says nothing at the time, which is certainly not in character. He'd rant about it for an hour at least, if he was awake and thought I didn't treat his arm with enough respect!
HeWho never wakes up. The dogs can bark and carry on and he just sleeps on. His arm is never on my side, though. My dogs would take care of that!
Kathy,
Oh my gosh! I have a new incident to report. A little Jack in the bed would have solved my problem forthwith! He's quite loyal to me. He'd be shaking Farmer H's arm like a terrier with a rat!
I told you to make him a house dog! He would keep Farmer H in check!
Kathy,
Farmer H forbids it! Maybe for that very reason...
Jack would adore being near me 23/7 (gotta have my hour to fetch a 44 oz Diet Coke). However, he would be bored without his pastimes of chasing squirrels without catching them, and tunneling past his waist into mole holes.
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