Another Day, Another Journey Under HM's Skin

Farmer H has a variety of ways to annoy me. I think he has a little black book where he lists his tactics, and gives them starred ratings for effectiveness. He tried a new one on Sunday night.

Let the record show that Mrs. HM's nose drips now and then. I always have some Puffs With Lotion on hand, to dab or blow my nose. I'm not sick. It's just a drippy nose. My mom had it, too. I even tear the Puffs in half, so as to use only half as many. It's a drip. Not a snootful of snot like you'd get mid-cold.

Anyhoo... as I was getting up from the table Sunday night, I put my used half-Puffs on my plate as usual, to set on the counter and then throw them in the wastebasket when I went around. I guess one of them blew off the plate, because while I was standing on the other side of the counter throwing the half-Puffs away, I saw one on the floor by the leg of my chair. It was not worth the effort to walk around and get it. That half-Puff was not in the walkway. I could pick it up the next morning when I went to sit at the table again.

Sweet Gummi Mary! I went to the kitchen to take my morning pill after Farmer H had left, and saw a sight that made my blood boil!  

MY HALF-PUFF WAS ON THE KITCHEN TABLE BY MY COMPUTER!

I know a half-Puff doesn't jump up on the table by itself. It was obvious that Farmer H had put it there. WHYYYYYY? (In the iconic word of Nancy Kerrigan) 

The only purpose this serves is to trash-shame Mrs. HM! We all know that Farmer H does not pick things up off the floor. Not the dead leaves he tracks in, not the pills he drops in the master bathroom, not the bare toilet paper tube that he knocks off when bagging the full trash. He's not a picker-upper. UNLESS he has an evil agenda...

Of course I confronted Farmer H with his spiteful action when he got home. Didn't even wait for This Is The Time Of Day We Talk About The Most Recent Thing You've Done Wrong.

"Why in the Not-Heaven would you put my used tissue on the table? What's the point of that? You could throw it away. Or lay it on the counter for me to throw away. Why would I want a used tissue on the table by my computer?"

"I picked it up for you."

"I knew it was there. It wasn't hurting anything. I was going to get it when I sat down there this morning. All you did was put it in my way. TO POINT OUT THAT I DROPPED IT ON THE FLOOR!"

"Actually, your chair towel was laying there too. I picked it up and put it on the chair, because I was afraid you'd say I knocked it off."

[I fold up a bath towel into quarters to sit on, since those hard wooden kitchen chairs seem even harder after a couple hours of ample-rumpusing.]

"If your real plan was to 'help me,' you should have just put that tissue on the counter, where I could reach it and throw it away."

No answer from the devious picker-upper.

While I didn't accuse Farmer H of knocking off my chair towel, I could see that it was folded differently. And it was NOT on the floor the previous evening when I saw the tissue. Still, it could have fallen on its own, due to gravity overnight, or something else. Stranger things have happened in the Mansion...