Farmer H is at it again. I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill me. Subtly. By doing things to raise my medicated blood pressure. No evidence that way, you know...
Wednesday, I basked all morning in the warm thoughts of my evening free of cooking and cleaning up after Farmer H's supper. I love bingo night! But then Farmer H sent a text before noon that he would NOT be attending bingo, because his Senior Center friends had something else to do. So I had to come up with an idea for supper. He turned down the Terrible Tater stuffed with diced Christmas ham, cheese, and broccoli. But did agree to diced Christmas ham in BBQ sauce on a hot dog bun. So I just had to thaw out a baggie of diced Christmas ham, and simmer it in a saucepan with BBQ sauce. Then dice an onion, and set out pre-portioned shredded cheddar for the topping. So much for my night off.
Thursday evening, the joke was on Farmer H, because I had laid out some sausages from Save A Lot for him to grill. The temperature hit 69 degrees! Anyhoo... Farmer H started by soaking a paper towel with water to "clean off the grill." Of course he does not know how to turn off a faucet. A faucet that he installed when building the house. One of those lever type faucets, which must be shoved to the left for cold water, and to the right for hot water. That's because he reversed the hot and cold water pipes under the sink. Anyhoo... Farmer H left that faucet dripping. Long slow drips. Until I got up to turn it off correctly.
THEN, when he came in with the cooked sausages, and put food on his plate while leaving 8 other sausages for me to put away, with the glass casserole dish of baked beans that I spent 2.5 hours tending before going to town... Farmer H mishandled my oven mitts. Instead of hanging them both back on the hook on the cutting block where I keep them, he put one mitt on one hook, and the other mitt on another hook. I have told him repeatedly that I grab them both at once, and don't want to hunt for the second one and wrestle it off another hook.
It's the little things.
I have my gloves on one hook too, but I have two sets of gloves, one for regular oven use, they are insulated and elbow length, and the other pair is for hot microwave dishes. Nobody touches them but me because nobody lives here but me and Lola and Lola doesn't cook.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteGood to know that Lola doesn't mess with your oven mitts!
They act like they just moved in and are still learning where everything goes.
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteIt's like they wake up in a foreign country every morning, and don't speak the language!