The day after my Mother's Day feast at the local catfish restaurant, T-Hoe made a noise. A DING DING DING noise. He does this when somebody rides in the passenger seat without a seatbelt. Farmer H had done that momentarily when I picked him up with The Pony to drive to our fish feast. I told him NO WAY was I going to listen to that intermittent alarm all the way to Bill-Paying Town. So he put on his seatbelt.
But Wednesday, nobody was riding shotgun. I knew it couldn't be an alarm about an unbelted rider. So I pushed the button that shows the warnings. It said T-Hoe had 13 percent oil life remaining. Good to know! I told Farmer H when I got home. He kind of grunted. Not even sure he understood what I said, because he made no comment about getting T-Hoe's oil changed.
The DING DING DING happened again on Thursday. And Friday. Always at the same place, going up the curvy gravel hill after descending Farmer H and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill. When it happened on Saturday, I quickly glanced down at my rotating warnings about servicing the suspension system and servicing the tire sensors. And there it was! A NEW warning that only flashed by once, right after the DING DING DING: Oil Pressure Low. That's a bit more serious! I continued to town.
On the way home, just before the prison, I had to stop for the car ahead of me making a left turn. I was on a hill, T-Hoe's nose in the air. DING DING DING! I guess accelerating at low speed up a hill makes that oil shift or work harder or something.
Anyhoo... I told Farmer H as soon as I got home that I was afraid to drive T-Hoe to town until he did something about the oil. That now the OIL PRESSURE WAS LOW! I'm pretty sure that can destroy an engine. Farmer H jumped right up from his recliner, and said,
"I think I have some oil over in the BARn. I'll drive the Gator over there and get some before I get in the bathtub."
"You can't put it in NOW. T-Hoe is hot. I just got back. You'll burn yourself!"
"Heh, heh. I'm not going to burn my myself putting in OIL, HM!"
Well. There's something you're not supposed to fiddle with when the engine is hot. But if Farmer H wanted to be all smug, then he could just go ahead and steam himself, as long as he gave T-Hoe a drink of oil to quench his thirst.
I'll find out Sunday if this did the trick. I know T-Hoe still needs an oil change, but at least he shouldn't be LOW.
I really think you need to brave up and take T-Hoe to the mechanic yourself, but then you're stuck there with no way to get home I guess. Tell Farmer H I said to get his skates on and get that done before T-Hoe dies! He's quick enough with what HE wants done! so he can be quick about this too.
ReplyDeleteBit too snippy? Sorry, I'm in a mood :(
River,
ReplyDeleteNot too snippy. I have been pointing this out to Farmer H. That there's always time for his junking, but the Mansion is falling down around our ears. He has always stopped me from my pursuits, whether it was walking around the field for an hour a day, having dinner out with my mom once a week, playing trivia on occasional Saturdays with my Newmentia crew, and even READING! He said I was "obsessed" with my activities. Well, look at the pot badmouthing the kettle! He has tried to shut down my innernetting, claiming that I must be secretly talking to men online. AS IF! My computing is a release that keeps me from doing something "pretty sure" to him...
Oh, this sounds bad. Contolling your behaviour amounts to spousal abuse in my country and possibly in your country too. I don't like the sound of this at all and it might get worse. It's one of the reasons why I divorced hubby #2.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteIt's not as bad as it used to be. I give him an earful when he starts that crap now. How dare he complain about that kind of "obsession" when I'm right here at home, or was with a relative or work colleagues. NOT traipsing all over three counties from sunup until sundown, doing who knows what with whom. Sometimes I have to remind him that I am NOT his property! I don't even have a themed shed for him to keep me in!
HeWho might complain from time to time, but he knows better than to monitor my activities! My first marriage was abusive, mentall and physically. He would tell me what I was allowed to eat while he was at work! Nobody tells me what to do!!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteThat's what I tell Farmer H. "You're not the boss of me!" Like when I burp, and he says, "Excuse you." As if he's an etiquette coach, all the while farting and exclaiming, "The frogs are bad tonight!"
Okay, that pushes all my buttons! Not only do I do what I want (with-in reason), but NO ONE speaks fro me except me and if you choose to try, you better be ready for the lecture that will follow whe I point out all your short comings. It will be a long and winding road, as I have an excellent memory!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteWhen the boys were here, I'd try to let it go and just not even speak to him for a while. Now that they're not here for traumatization, I give it right back to Farmer H in the way he speaks to me. He does not like that at all. Nor siree, Bob! He can just have a hissy-fit over me speaking my mind. Don't start with me if you don't want to get it back!