Since I've been computing at the kitchen table, I am much more knowledgeable than I was in my dark basement lair. I've seen things I didn't need to see, like Farmer H wrestling a Diet Mountain Dew free from the 6-pack on FRIG II's top shelf each time, rather than freeing them all at once. Like Farmer H taking both a Little Debbie Swiss Roll for a snack at night, AND a mini Moon Pie. Also, things I DID need to see. Such as Farmer H trying to kill me by tossing that jagged lid from the refried bean can into the trash. And like Saturday afternoon...
I had baked brownies for a treat after our intended supper of Domino's Pizza. They were done and sitting on the stove, cooled, draped with red Glad Cling Wrap, because that's what I had open. Must have been left from a couple Christmas seasons ago. I don't use much Cling Wrap.
Anyhoo... Farmer H had brought home the pizza, and let Scarlett loose to roam. He ate his supper. I went out to pet Scarlett and Jack. She stayed around the porch. For quite a while... Then when Farmer H was ready to tie her up for the night, he couldn't find her or the pair of Jacks. About 10 minutes later, he got on the lawnmower (!) and went riding up the gravel road to the last place she had run away to.
Meanwhile, I saw Scarlett on the back porch again, lying there panting. I guess she'd had a run, and come back. I sent Farmer H a text, but he didn't see it. He was back in about five minutes. Came in and said the Jacks had come to meet him when they heard the lawnmower, and followed along with him. And when he came home, Scarlett ran out in the yard to meet him at the end of the driveway. He thinks the Jacks took her off to leave her somewhere. I don't!
Anyhoo... Farmer H sat down for a few minutes to pet the dogs. He said Scarlett jumped right up in his lap. Then she was lying on the front porch, and little Jack nosed her off onto the ground! He used to do that with our black tuxedo cat, Socks. Start nosing and yipping and pushing until eventually, that fat cat could no longer hold on with his claws, and was shoved off into the rock garden. Heh, heh. Little Jack is a herder! And likes playing Kind of the Porch.
Anyhoo... Farmer H told me this as he came in with a water jug to fill and take over to Scarlett's dish. When he came back in the house, he went to the brownie pan and lifted the plastic wrap.
"WAIT A MINUTE! You aren't going to wash your hands?"
"Huh. I guess I can."
Seriously? He had been petting the dogs and driving the mower! It's not like our dogs are pretty pampered pooches who are bathed regularly, and lounge about on the furniture, living a privileged, clean life. They are outside dogs who roll in aromatic entrails and drag deer bones onto the porch and take a dip in the green-algae-coated fake fish pond. I don't want any of those spices flavoring my brownies!
I think I might have discovered the reason I sometimes feel... indisposed... for no discernable reason.
4 comments:
Oh that's definitely the reason for your "indisposed" times. How has he not learned by now?
River,
I'm not sure if the lack of handwashing is just because Farmer H is a MAN, or because that might not have been a priority while growing up in his house with no indoor plumbing, two brothers, a blind dad, and a mom in the mental hospital most of the time.
His poor mom went crazy trying to make the men wash their hands!! I thought the pandemic taught all of us the importance of proper handwashing, but it did not extend to my husband either. Our dogs are pampered, but I still don't want to eat food contaminated by their fur and whatever they have been into! Take comfort in the knowledge that he is just trying to build up your immunities!!
Kathy,
Heh, heh! Quite possible. Your dogs live the high life, but I agree about not wanting to have their essence in the food. Still, there's less chance of dead entrails on their fur than on that of my fleabags. This is one time when I don't think Farmer H was deliberately trying to kill me.
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