Farmer H The Magnificent

No. I haven't lost my mind. No need to collectively rev up your twirly temple crazy fingers and cut eyes while bemoaning the unraveling of Mrs. HM's mental faculties. I AM comparing Farmer H to the Johnny Carson character Carnac the Magnificent, a smart-alecky psychic. Farmer H doesn't even need an envelope for his act.

The Pony and I took Farmer H out for a birthday lupper (lunch/supper) on Wednesday at 1:00. Yes, of course Farmer H paid! He had been playing Santa somewhere, and met me in front of The Pony's house. The Pony had gone in to work a half-day on his day off. There has been a situation at the post office, and he feels like helping out.

Anyhoo... we all climbed into A-Cad, and instead of driving in the expected direction, Farmer H started winding along some remote back streets in the opposite direction of Bill-Paying Town, which is where the restaurant is located.

Let the record show that Mrs. HM is an old lady. One who takes medication for her blood pressure. Which has a feature of wringing the moisture out of Mrs. HM's system. I plan my excursions by careful timing, and knowledge of where restrooms are located. Farmer H, not so much. He is content to pull over at the side of a road and take care of business. Not in town, of course. But he has so many acquaintances that I'm pretty sure there are red carpets all over several towns, laid out to guide Farmer H to toilet facilities. 

Anyhoo... it soon became clear to me that Farmer H was pointing out the houses where he had delivered presents for the Senior Center! As if The Pony and I needed this grand tour. The Pony, after all, is slogging along these streets daily. I don't think he needs to revisit certain locations for sightseeing.

When I dared ask why we were meandering along back streets instead of getting right to lupper, Farmer H, who had no doubt eaten at the Senior Center at 11:00, inquired as to my hurry. And not in a nice way.

"I left home at 12:15. We were going to be at lupper by 1:30. But now we're just wasting time, and I'll need a bathroom."

"Oh, you don't have to go to the bathroom!" Said Farmer H the Magnificent, knower of all knowledge. 

Basically, Farmer H is saying (in a quite condescending manner) that he knows my bodily functions better than I do myself. Also, I am NOT psychic where it concerns his plans to meander all willy-nilly about the town, telling The Pony false history of the lead-mining days. I had no idea how long this tour might take.

Am I wrong to be infuriated by this attitude? I think not.