Farmer H Is NFI

As I type this, my appointment about the leg issue that precludes a knee replacement is tomorrow. Farmer H is NFI. That means Not Flippin' Invited! Oh, he will drive me there. He can wait in A-Cad and play with his phone. Or he can come inside and sit in their chairs. But he is NOT coming into the actual exam/evaluation with me.

It's not like I'm cognitively challenged. I don't need his input. Or output. He insisted on coming it with me to see the orthopedist at the initial knee replacement consultation. Farmer H can't keep his mouth shut. A couple times, the ortho ignored him, and focused on ME. As it should be! Here's an example of Farmer H's shenanigans. Which he considers "helping" me.

The orthopedist said, "I can give you a shot. This is good for about three months. I could give it again in four months if it's helping."

Farmer H: "I had a shot in MY knee. It lasted for six months."

Ortho: "Well, you were very lucky if it lasted that long."

Cut to Saturday, in the Mansion kitchen, after I returned from town.

"I think my knee shot might be wearing off. It really hurts sometimes. Like right now, after shopping, and coming up the steps. It's been right at two months since I got the shot."

"Yeah, I don't think mine lasted THAT long!"

"What in the NOT-HEAVEN! You sat right there at my knee doctor appointment, and told him that yours lasted SIX MONTHS!"

"Well. I KNOW it didn't last that long."

I depend on Farmer H for a lot of things. Having him in my life is much more of an advantage than a disadvantage. But sometimes I can't decide if he's a gaslighter, a would-be murderer, a raging narcissist, a bumbling idiot, or simply an unreliable narrator.

Thank the Gummi Mary, I have this avenue to vent...

What Have You Done With My Fave?

Saturday dropped a puzzle on Mrs. HM. Hopefully it's one of those giant-piece puzzles with only four interlocking parts, used for toddlers. And not one of those 2000 piece sea and sky puzzles like my grandma used to bring home from the mental hospital. Not that Grandma was IN the mental hospital. She worked at it, as a nurse's aide, the overnight 11:00 to 7:00 shift at State Hospital #4. Which was handy to babysit us if we were too sick for school. And the puzzles were also handy to keep us occupied so Grandma could catch a nap. She always took the puzzles back after completing them. 

Anyhoo... the puzzle here was that behind the counter of the Gas Station Chicken Store on Saturday was NOT FAVE! It was Woman Owner running the register, with Man Owner puttering around stocking shelves. This was quite unusual for a Saturday. 

They did not seem disgruntled. So I'm not worried that Fave might have been given the boot. You'd think if that was the case, both owners would have exhibited an attitude over working her shift. I hope it wasn't another dog fight. Fave lost the end of her thumb in the last one. She hasn't been sniffly or sick. She didn't mention that she would be gone. Then again, on Friday she didn't say, "See you tomorrow!" But that might be because a line had formed.

It's almost time now to leave for town on Sunday afternoon. We'll see if Fave is working, and what her excuse is! I hope she's back. 

Woman Owner only sold me $11 of winners. Five on a $5 new bingo ticket, and six dollars on a $3 crossword. I can't count on her to sell me luck.

This Is What I Mean

It was time to buy more dog food for Pepper and Jack. Farmer H gets it at the Devil's Playground. Sometimes he asks if there's anything I need from there, sometimes not. I haven't shopped there for over three years now, so it's usually a no. I vaguely remember him saying he needed to get dogfood a few days ago. He went on Friday.

Can Farmer H give me, the bill-payer and money-handler, a receipt in a timely manner? Like when he walks through the door and I'm sitting at the kitchen table where I do the bookkeeping? You already know the answer to that. Farmer H is like a sneak thief, waiting until the early morning hours, when I am sitting on the short couch, sometimes asleep, when he leaves the Mansion. He puts the receipt on HIPPIE where I will find it after he is long gone.

At first I thought Farmer H was just doing this to irritate me. It's not so farfetched! Now I'm pretty sure he does it because he doesn't want to be confronted with what he bought. Farmer H is allowed to buy things for the household. Even allowed to buy himself treats, as if the ones I bring him aren't enough! But I'm not happy with his latest purchases. I suspect he might be buying things that he "gives away" at his SUS2.5. You know, the business that provides him with HIS money.

The last three items on this receipt appear to be dog food. The rest are SNACKS! Not only snacks, but snacks which I never see. They do not come into the Mansion. What can Farmer H possibly be doing with so many snacks? I'm used to him buying a candy bar and soda wherever he goes. But this is too much for one guy for one day!

I'm guessing the Dr P/7UP and the CANDY BAR were snacks for him on Friday. Kind of expensive, when you can buy a multi pack and have one of each a day. But like I said, I never see such a multi pack of any snacks around here. Except for all the Diet Mountain Dew that I buy for Farmer H.

Where is the COKE and OREO 10CT and MILKY WAY? Even Farmer H couldn't consume all of that in a single day. 

I've got an interrogation on my agenda...

A Shocking Phone Call

Has anybody checked the temperature in Not-Heaven lately? I'm thinking they might be undergoing a cold snap. The most shocking thing just happened!

I was on the phone with The Pony, about Farmer H and his plans to pursue the problem flip house that has been on hold for about a year now. A tale which will be told elsewhere, when there's something to tell. My phone started beeping.

"Pony. I think that's my phone. It must be a call or some texts coming in. They'll leave a message if it's important. I'm almost done anyway." [That was regarding another tale of Farmer H, which will also be told elsewhere.]

When I concluded our call, I checked my phone. It showed a missed call, and a voicemail. The number was nothing I recognized, other than it seeming to originate in the local area, most likely Bill-Paying Town, where my doctor and hospital are. Or it could also come from Sis-Town, where a couple of people had contacted me recently about our upcoming high school reunion planned for September. I listened to the voicemail.

IT WAS ABOUT MY LEG APPOINTMENT!!!

I called back, and got the gal who left the message. 

"We had an order a while back about seeing you to help with your leg swelling. I was calling to see if you would like to make an appointment."

"Yes, I would like to do that."

Leg Gal was very polite. I took the first appointment she offered (maybe it would have been the only one!) for early next week. I don't know how much good it will do, since only one week later, I have the follow-up appointment with my NP to see how much this therapy has been helping me. As I understood it before, the first appointment is basically an evaluation.

Anyhoo... Leg Gal made sure I knew where their facility was located. It's occupational therapy, which doesn't adjoin the hospital itself, but is within a half mile or so. I made sure I was expected to wear clothing that allows access to my legs/knees. And bring my insurance card and photo ID.

My chauffeur, Farmer H, has verified that he is available that day.

Sweet Gummi Mary! 

It's only been TWO MONTHS since the order for this therapy was issued...

The Ta-a-sting Is The Hardest Part

My recovery from the not-pneumonia spread by Farmer H to me last week has taken a turn for the better. I didn't realize I had it until Thursday, when the cough started, and my chest felt the burning/wheezing. It slowly progressed into my head. Saturday evening, I started losing my taste. It happens with every cold. When I get nasal congestion, the smell and taste say "Bye, bye. See you later. Don't try to entice us to stay. We're taking a brief vacation."

I was scratching my lottery tickets when the realization hit me. Huh. My Shasta Zero Sugar Cola tastes funny. I haven't even added any lime to it. Straight out of the can. But it has an aftertaste like Pine Sol. Not that I ever drank Pine Sol. But it sure tastes like that cleaner smells. My slice of sharp cheddar just seemed not-so-sharp. And the dill pickle not as sour.

By later that night, I could not taste my mini Drumstick at all. I knew I was in for a disappointing few days. I couldn't remember how long this usually takes. Besides, I wasn't feeling my best, with the wheezing and coughing, and burning eyes. I didn't want much to eat, but I DID resent my sickness for preventing me from tasting it.

I had a leftover hot dog Sunday, that Farmer H had grilled on Thursday. Plenty of mustard. No taste. On Monday, I didn't go to town. I was wanting some chicken soup. I found a can of generic Chunky Chicken Noodle in the pantry. It's BEST BY date was May 2025. I figured it probably wouldn't kill me. Tasted just fine, heh, heh! I also had a can of sardines in mustard sauce. They were not as delicious as usual. And of course my mini Drumstick. Because I'm a creature of habit. I want my usual treats, even if I can't taste them.

Tuesday I bought some unexpired chicken soup. I had that and sardines and some Ritz crackers. In the mornings, I'd still been having my banana and Maple Brown Sugar Oatmeal.

Wednesday, I felt about 70% better. The cough had slowed. The nose didn't run. Eyes didn't water. Wheezing was gone. Yet I still had no taste. I was hopeful all through the day. Maybe by scratcher time. Maybe by soup time. Maybe by ice cream time. Nope. In fact, with the soup, I got out the sardines I'd bought by mistake. One can left. The Louisiana Hot Sauce. Which was just HOT, and not flavorful. Maybe that would clean out my sinus congestion. Nope. But they didn't taste bad. Just burned.

Thursday now, and I'm still more hopeful as each hour goes by. I even had a generic Halls MenthoLyptus Honey Lemon Cough Drop, as I have been doing a couple times a day since Tuesday. No result. 

Here's the thing. I couldn't taste, but at least I had different textures. Hot liquid soup. Crunchy crackers. Meaty sardines. Cool smooth ice cream with a crunchy cone. I can sense a bit of salty or sweet, but that's it. I still have to eat. I figured I was having about 1200 calories. Not starving. You're supposed to feed a cold, right? Or is that starve a cold... I can never remember.

I'll be buying more soup on my errands today.

In His Typical Unpredictable Fashion

A while back, we got a new water heater when Farmer H bought a big order of stuff at Lowe's for the elderly apartments. He paid our share, but it gave him enough for the discount, to save money for the apartments as well.

That water heater has been sitting in our basement, next to the old water heater. Which has been working fine in my opinion, but I don't go down in the basement workshop. Farmer H said it has been leaking. Thus the need for a new one. And the fact that this one is probably 15-20 years old, and has been cleaned out numerous times due to mineral deposits that clog up in the bottom.

Anyhoo... Farmer H had planned to get the new water heater installed shortly after buying it. But he was busy with the apartments, then Old Buddy got sick, then we had a bunch of rain that made driving SilverRedO through the yard not a good idea for removing the old water heater.

Tuesday morning, Farmer H said he would be bringing HOS home with him in the afternoon, to help install the new water heater. He didn't say as much, but I figured that meant the water would be turned off for a while, and then there would be a lag for hot water while the icy well water was heated in the new water heater. Accordingly, I took my shower three hours early, and left for town.

When I got home, Farmer H was out on his blue tractor in front of the neighbors' house. The blue tractor now with new hydraulics and two new front tires. He was trying to fill in some dirt along the edge of the gravel road where a deep ditch has washed out. Somebody has to do it!

Anyhoo... Farmer H barely got his tractor off the other side of the road so I could pass by. I almost had to get off in that still-deep ditch. Farmer H said that he could not pick up HOS, because HOS had another chore. That meant my early shower was in vain.

Wednesday around 1:00, Farmer H called me.

"I'm bringing home HOS so we can put in the water heater. What time do you take your shower?"

"I took it early yesterday! Because I thought you were putting in the water heater. I usually have it around 2:00 or 3:00. I can skip it today. I doubt the water will be ready. And you won't want to wait that long to put it in."

Exactly. Farmer H didn't want to wait. If he had revealed this new plan at 6:00 a.m. before going to town, I could have again taken an early shower. But no. Why would he do THAT?

Farmer H was here at 1:30. He left at 3:00 to take HOS back home. I am unshowered, but since I don't get all that dirty sitting on the couch and innernetting at the kitchen table, I don't think I will offend anybody by missing a shower. It's not worth rearranging my regular schedule to have one later. I am a creature of routine.

Hopefully, the water will be nice and hot later when I want to rinse out the supper dishes.

Pepper Teaches Himself A Trick

At four months old, puppy Pepper is developing a personality. He's rambunctious in the way of the young, always excited and happy to see us when we go outside. He leaps and prances, then tucks in behind us as we walk. It must be the heeler part of him. I don't recall our other pups doing this, though Jack and Juno (the lab/border collie mix) did this in adulthood, each of them sometimes poking my leg with a nose to steer me.

Anyhoo... Pepper is good about not jumping ON us. He learned that quickly with just a sharp NO! He will hop on his hind legs, but not make contact. 

Pepper knows that I bring a little treat as I leave for town. Lately it has been a bite-size piece of stale English Muffin dipped in the juices left from the Easter roasted vegetables with bacon. I'm sure Pepper can smell it. But he also looks at my hands, to see if I am carrying his treat.

Jack knows to go stand on the side porch and wait. That's where I distribute the leaving treats. Pepper seems to hope I'll drop it early. Even though I give him a (soothing) Farmer H style lecture on the way. "Pepper. You know you don't get a treat until I'm at the top of the steps. Just wait."

Today, Pepper was hopping on his hind legs, in front of me as I reached the steps and turned to toss the treats. He BARKED at me! Just once. As when you teach a dog to wait for a treat, and say, "Speak." It was coincidental timing.

Heh, heh. Pepper has taught himself a trick. He might be a genius. I'm sure he thinks he has ME trained to drop a treat when he barks.