You know those signs, the red circle with a line slashing through it, to ban certain behaviors. I need one with Farmer H in a kitchen, and that slashed line. No need to get more specific. If it's a kitchen, and Farmer H is in it, there will be trouble.
Be careful what you wish for! Ever since I wished Farmer H would be home and help me carry in groceries, he's been there. Carried in the groceries. And then attempted to put some away. I've grown used to the bananas being tossed all willy-nilly into the bowl, like someone under the influence of LSD tried to play JENGA with them. And 5 lb bags of potatoes being hidden on the floor of the pantry so they will remain unnoticed until they start to rot. I know to correct these Farmer H "helps."
Monday, I caught Farmer H red-handed, trying to put a package of paper plates in the cabinet. A package. A literal package.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Putting away these plates."
"First of all, that's the wrong cabinet. That's the regular plates. Been there for 25 years. It's the cabinet by the sink you want. WAIT A MINUTE! What are you doing?"
"Putting away the paper plates!"
"Not like THAT! Why would you do that? Put a whole package on top of the stack of paper plates in there? So when I have to grab one, I have to take out the whole package, open it, and put them back. When it should be done right now."
"Huh."
Farmer H tried to open the plastic wrap on those plates with his fingers. Heh, heh. Not happenin'. Then he looked for a knife in the silverware drawer, which holds no sharp knives, as they are in the drawer below. He ended up taking a fork and jabbing a hole in the plastic, then wrestling it off the stack of plates.
I should have known better than to take my eyes off Farmer H while getting my glasses and phone out of my purse. He had put a couple other things away before I shooed him out of the kitchen. It was the next morning, when I went to get out a couple slices of dog bread (the cheap wheat sandwich bread that I buy just for giving to the dogs) that I saw Farmer H had been in that cabinet, too. A package of 8 hamburger buns was plopped on top of the dog bread loaf. Smashing it to half its size.
I know I've asked this before... but do you think it's possible Farmer H does these things wrong so I won't want his help in the kitchen???
I used to think that but now I'm not so sure. I think he just tosses things into cupboards and shuts the doors knowing he's put things away so all is right in his world. The fact there is a right way and a wrong way simply doesn't occur to him.
ReplyDeleteI had to come back and check because I was pretty sure I closed the comment window without clicking on publish and of course now I can't remember what I wrote :(
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteYou may be right. His "treasures" are stored all willy-nilly in assorted outbuildings, except for his Coca Cola collection in the loft of the BARn.
River,
ReplyDeleteNope. It was here, but I was late in checking on the comments.
I have thought the same about HeWho a time or two and then realized that he lacked the thought process it would take to plan it all out ....
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteMaybe... or they're evil geniuses when it comes to getting out of HELPING.