The Pony was belaboring a point Friday evening, sitting on the long couch, eating the sausage links, carrots-with-cheese, baked potato, and biscuits that I had prepared for him, while taking a page from Farmer H's book and telling me, "I've told you, you don't HAVE to cook supper for me every night." Funny how they both like to say that while they're in the middle of, or just finishing up, the supper that I made for them that night.
Okay. So truthfully, I'd called The Pony into the kitchen to hand me the mixed broccoli/ cauliflower/carrot mix, and the store-brand Velveeta, and the sausage links. And to line the biscuit pan with foil. And put the biscuits on there. And fetch three potatoes from the bag. And open a jar of Sweet Banana Pepper Rings. So conceivably, The Pony did almost as much preparation of supper as I did. Shhhh. We certainly don't need to let that get out.
Anyhoo... The Pony declared that he didn't really like the carrots with cheese, which he had chosen over raw baby carrots with ranch dip. Never mind that I'd picked THOSE baby carrots out of the broccoli and cauliflower bag that Farmer H and I were partaking of. But then he had the nerve to act as if I'd forced those cheesy carrots on him, when actually it would have been easier to shake out some raw carrots.
Also, The Pony had the NERVE to say, "I thought you were going back to the kitchen to take your sausages out of the oven five minutes ago. It's been more than twice that."
"Excuse me! I've told you I don't feel well today. That I can't seem to catch my breath. And now here I am, trying to get a rest, and you're forcing me off my DEATH COUCH before I'm ready!"
"I knew I should have set a timer when you said that. To remind you."
"You know, Pony, my Resting Supper Face is about to change to a Resting Something-Else Face!"
You don't feel well??
ReplyDeleteOh no. no-no-no, you can't get sick. I will cry.
River,
ReplyDeleteHold your tears! Today I feel normal. Just the joint pains. I don't know what was going on yesterday. Even The Pony said, "Wait, wasn't this how you felt when you had your pulmonary embolisms?" No. That was like I couldn't move air in and out.
This thing was a light-headedness, even when I took deep breaths and was mostly sitting still. All gone today. I have no idea what it was, but I had it from the time I woke up until I went to bed.
Getting old is not fun. I don't recommend it. Stay the same age. Peter Pan it. Or, milk it for all its worth.
ReplyDeleteDo lots of whining. Lots of complaining. Lots of "putting your hand to your forehead, palm out, like you're getting the vapors or about to faint. Make him worry. Not worry about you dying. That might not concern The Pony. Make him worry that with you ill, the bills might not get paid on time and the hot water might be turned off. No triangle tub time. The electricity and gas might be turned off. No microwave or oven to heat up his pizzas and breadsticks.
Let him suffer a bit...
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteWhat, no offer of tears from YOU, Madam? Am I not tear-worthy? And now you have used a phrase which is already in the can as a title for a future Pony post. I'm sure you'll be taking the credit, when actually you are just psychically draining my creative juices...
The Pony doesn't realize how cushy he's got it. He has always seemed skeptical when I tell him "You life will never be any easier than it is right now." I've been telling him that for about ten years.