The Man Who Couldn't Listen If His Wife Depended On It

Sweet Gummi Mary! There is stubborn. There is hard-headed. And there's Farmer-H-headed! That man will not listen to reason. And by reason, I mean ME!

Remember those stove burner drip pans Farmer H was supposed to get. And got them, then took them off the kitchen counter where they were reachable from the stove area, and put them on the back of the kitchen table, across from the sink counter? Well. After being nagged within an inch of his life to set them where I didn't have to hike around the counter and balance myself to reach over two chairs to the end of the table, he decided to put them in himself.

"No. That's fine. Just leave them there beside the stove. I'll do it tomorrow."

"I've got it."

"No. I've done it before. Not a problem."

"I've done it at least twice before."

"Stop. I said I'd do it."

"It's fine."

Farmer H had the coil burner part out, and was setting the old drip pan on top of the stove. Looking into the hole. Reaching for a new drip pan.

"Now what are you doing? If it dripped in there, I'll have to clean it out."

"FINE! I'll let you do it!"

Farmer H started putting the old drip pan back in. Shoved the burner coil into its plug-in place. Left the burner coil all akimbo.

"Wait. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I'm done."

"Not like that. It's not even."

"It's fine."

"No..."

"There. Just like I said."

Farmer H had finally realized there was a clip thingy that a part had to snap into. Three thingies, three parts to clip in.

Seriously. How hard is it to just lay the drip pans on the counter and let me do it myself? Without acting so know-it-all-y, and messing things up, then backing out when seeing that cleaning will be involved.