Help Is In The Mind Of The Helper

Farmer H is the proverbial monkey wrench. A walking, talking monkey wrench who unintentionally (I hope) sabotages any project or plan I have in the works. Like Saturday evening...

Farmer H had sent me a text that he would be staying at his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store 2) until 4:30. That's the time he usually get home, or perhaps a bit earlier. I responded at 4:00 that I was just leaving for town. It usually takes me about an hour, when I go in the store for a few items.

I was back home at 5:00. Hoping that Farmer H would be there. It's about a 30-minute drive from the SUS2 over in Bill-Paying Town to the Mansion. Nope. No SilverRedO under the carport. 

I carried in the bags after giving my fleabags a good petting. I put away my items. Still no Farmer H. I bagged up the trash that was overflowing. Put in a new trash bag. But I didn't tie the drawstrings of the old one in a knot. I had more stuff to put in it. Once out of the trash can, there was room left inside.

The trash doesn't get picked up until Tuesday. When we get a full trash bag, Farmer H takes it up to the dumpster at the end of the driveway as he leaves in the mornings. He just tosses the bag onto the hood of SilverRedO, then gets out and puts it in the dumpster.

Anyhoo...I tried to call Farmer H at 5:15, to see if he had left yet. His phone was dead. Meaning that my call did not go through. It just seemed like it was calling. But there was no ringing sound, and no voice mail to leave a message. That happens when Farmer H is inside his SUS2. He doesn't get good reception. Sometimes a text will go through. So I sent him a text. After 5 minutes, he replied that he was almost home, and just getting the mail. So I knew that I could start his supper of chicken tacos.

I carried the full trash bag around to the kitchen table area, where it's handy for Farmer H to pick up on his way out in the morning. I had an empty box from my Shasta Diet Cola on the kitchen counter by the sink. I planned to put in the end of the lettuce I was chopping, and the skin and ends of the onion I would also be chopping. That would save me walking out to toss it off the porch. It would be sealed up in the trash bag in the dumpster, not stinking up the Mansion.

Farmer H came in, and I complimented (heh, heh) him on his uncanny ability to arrive right after I had carried in and put away the groceries, and bagged up the trash. I asked if he wanted a whiskey and Shasta, or if he was just having Diet Mountain Dew with his meal. He said he'd take a whiskey and Shasta. I reminded him that there were still three 6-packs of his Diet Mountain Dew in T-Hoe's rear.

"Oh. I'll go out and bring in two."

I have no idea why he wouldn't bring in all three! He has carried in more that three 6-packs before. But I don't question Farmer H's ways. There's no rhyme nor reason to his logic.

When I sliced off the ends of the onion and put them into the Shasta box, I noticed that the TRASH BAG WAS GONE FROM THE KITCHEN TABLE AREA!

"Hey! Where's the trash bag? I wasn't done with it!"

"Oh. I took it out when I went back to get my soda. It's on the truck."

Sweet Gummi Mary! Of all the times to vary from routine, and take the trash bag out at NIGHT instead of in the morning! Not only was Farmer H not helpful. He was UNhelpful.

"Well. You never do that. And I have this soda box full of lettuce and onion parts that were supposed to go in that trash bag. So you'll have to take out this box in the morning, and put it in the trash bag."

I'm assuming he did. The soda box was gone. Surely he didn't put it anywhere else.