No Shortage Of Options

IF, and I don't mean when, I sincerely and legally mean IF, I ever wanted to do away with Farmer H, he leaves me no shortage of options. The latest method was brought to my attention on Wednesday afternoon, when Farmer H brought home a meatloaf dinner from the Senior Center. He said he brought it home for ME, but since I hate meatloaf unless I am the one who makes it, that meant Farmer H had that meatloaf all to himself.

"Well, I can slice it and take sandwiches for my lunch at my store."

"This is Wednesday, but if you think you want to eat that meatloaf on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, then go ahead. I don't want it."

Yeah. Farmer H COULD be poisoning himself. But this is not actually about meatloaf. Food poisoning is not a new option.

"I'm going down to my shop to sort through some things. Is there a jug here for water?"

Farmer H started rummaging around UNDER THE SINK! That's where chemicals are kept, you know. Caustic chemicals for scrubbing sinks, cleaning drains, not recommended for plastic surfaces or ESOPHAGUSES!

"No! Not there! We don't have anything like that. We do have one water jug in the little pantry, but I'm using it to store pasta. Macaroni noodles. Don't ask. It was The Pony's idea."

"Oh. Well. I guess I can buy a bottle of water."

I'm sure he can. Since he buys bottles of soda, and donuts, and candy bars. Last I heard, Farmer H had been buying cases of bottled water, for himself and Old Buddy when working on the flip houses, and for taking down to his SUS2.5.

Not sure why the "sudden" request for a water jug. But I saved Farmer H from himself this time. I deserve a medal.