More Not Listening, And Incriminating Embellishment

On Friday, I picked up a few items at the store, and got home just before Farmer H arrived. Meaning I had to carry in the frozen stuff by myself. I was expecting him to get there at the same time, from our phone conversation. Turns out he forgot to pick up his medicine, and had to go back to the pharmacy. 

Anyhoo... I was standing around the kitchen, waiting on him, to see how soon he wanted supper. He takes Pepper outside for a while when he gets home. I either want to have some time with my scratchers, or get his supper over with first so I don't have to stop.

"Do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"I'm taking the little dog out."

"That's not the question. I was going to get it ready before I change clothes. Do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"Supper is fine. I can just microwave it when I'm ready. I have to go to the bathroom!"

Off he went, to the master bathroom. I waited. And waited. Until finally Farmer H returned to the kitchen.

"So do you want a drink first, or just supper?"

"I told you, I'm taking out the little dog!"

"I know that! That's not the question! You always take Pepper out when you get home. I'm trying to find out when I should put your sausages in the oven. If you want it when you come in, or if you're having a drink first and I can scratch some tickets."

"I'm taking out the dog!"

"THAT'S NOT THE QUESTION! Look at me! Do you want supper or a drink?"

"A drink! I'll have a drink!"

"You just said supper before you ran to the bathroom! I'm trying to figure out how much time I have before starting it!"

"I want a drink. And supper! I can have a drink with supper!"

"Fine! I'll put it in the oven before I change, and I'll pour the drink for you to add soda."

Why should a simple question be so hard? You notice that it's to his benefit to answer. I'm doing something for HIM. I only want to know how to budget my time. I put his sausages in the oven at 250, figuring he'd be outside for a while with Pepper and Jack. I poured his Wild Turkey and added some ice, with it sitting on the cutting block so he could add the soda.

I went to get my other clothes, and change in the boys' bathroom. I was still in there when I heard Farmer H return. That was quick. I heard the pop of the soda can opening. I figured he was getting his drink and going to sit in the recliner until supper was ready. I came out of the bathroom to see nobody in the recliner.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my buns."

"Your food isn't warm yet! It's on a low temperature. You were only out there 10 minutes!"

"Well, Pepper seemed like he enjoyed it, and was ready to come in."

"Your buns will get stale."

"They're fine. I imagine the sausages are warm enough. I can smell them."

Farmer H was closing up the package of buns. Dipping his hand into a big bag of Ruffles potato chips.

"Did you even wash your hands? I don't think so. And you just carried the dog back in."

"I washed them!"

"When?"

"Just now. When I came back. In my bathroom."

"You did not! No way did you walk all the way into the bathroom to wash your hands. And there's no paper towel here from you washing them at the sink."

"Whatever..."

Yeah. No way. I did not hear Farmer H walking to the other bathroom. I just heard the kitchen door, and the laundry room door. Then the soda opening. And came out and caught him with the buns. I might have believed him if he said he washed them at the kitchen sink, and dried his hands on his pants. But he didn't plan ahead with a logical lie.

That's how to catch a liar. Too much embellishment upon interrogation.

The Auto Miser

We went to the casino on Thursday, with Farmer H behind the wheel of A-Cad. Riding with Farmer H is always an adventure. His sweaving was tolerable this time. Only a few strays into the wake-up bumps on the highway, only a few drifts into the other lane.

My main issue this trip was FREEZING. It was an overcast day, 46 degrees when we left the Mansion. Temps would be climbing into the 70s, but I know the casino is always cold, so I wore a sweatshirt over my regular gambling uniform pink plaid shirt. The temp on both dual controls in A-Cad were set at 74. This would probably be fine, IF there was any air blowing that heat around.

I tried to hold my tongue, for The Pony's sake, who doesn't like listening to our squabbles. You'd think a simple request for heat would be met with the blower being turned on. Problem solved. But no. Not when the driver is Farmer H, Auto Miser.

We traveled the county blacktop highway for about 30 miles. Got our McDonald's breakfast at the drive-thru, and got on the interstate highway. After Farmer H had consumed his Sausage, Egg, and Cheese McMuffin, I dared mention that I was cold. Farmer H reached over and set my control to 80 degrees.

"That might work, if any air was flowing. It's not."

Farmer H put his hand up to my center vent. "It's blowing."

I put my hand up to my side vent. Nothing. I turned the dial. Nothing.

"That vent is closed. No wonder you're not getting anything."

"I just closed it. Trying to see if it had been closed, and I could open it."

"It's on."

"No. It's NOT on. I could turn my side up to 100, and I still wouldn't get any warm air. Because you always put it on AUTO, and say it works automatically. That's all you ever talk about! AUTO, AUTO, AUTO! If the fan isn't on, the air doesn't move!"

Farmer H reached over and tried to set my contol on 100. The highest it went was 90. He left it there, and held his hand to my center vent again. There was no change. Farmer H cranked the dial on the fan, to put it on the highest setting. Warm air started blowing out the vent. I turned my control back down to 80. 

"You don't have to crank it up so much. My point is that you never want to turn on the fan. You think AUTO is actually doing something, but it's not!"

Farmer H turned it down to medium. "You're a big girl. You can operate the heat."

Yeah, right. In the past, this results with a heavy sigh, or vocal objection from Farmer H. About AUTO! AUTO will keep the temperature at what it's set for! Miraculously! Without any air moving at all!

Anyhoo... at least I was finally warm. But then we entered a brief shower. Light rain. Farmer H finally turned on the windshield wipers. On the lowest setting. So I endured a watery windshield with a distorted view, then a swipe that smeared dust. I didn't even bother to give my opinion of THAT situation. Nor when we got back home, and I saw how deflated A-Cad's tires were.

I don't know what the deal is with Farmer H. He acts like it costs money to turn on the fan to blow the heat, and to run the windshield wipers faster, and to put air in the tires so they're at the proper inflation! AND like such an imagined charge would come out of HIS pocket!

As If He Thought This Was A Good Defense

You are about to get a peek into why Mrs. HM lives in a state of incense-ation. As you might suppose, it involves Farmer H.

Yesterday morning, we were preparing to leave for the casino. Farmer H had been to town to gas up A-Cad (and most likely have a clandestine donut). I had asked him to get some scratchers for me, because I knew we'd get back around 5:00, and I didn't want to go to town then. I gave him three losing tickets as examples of what I wanted, and the money.

You know where this is headed, right? Farmer H returned home with my tickets. Except he had bought two extra, because Casey's was out of the one that I wanted. Then he went to Orb K and got that one. Oh, and he told me the extras were the Tetris ticket that I like, but they were totally NOT Tetris, but a green color rather than red, purple, or blue, with a money theme and a back-scratch playing area that is not on Tetris. Yet he STILL swore they were Tetris, because that's what he'd asked for, so the girl messed up, or they have their tickets in the wrong slots.

Heh, heh! That's not even what got me incensed. I was kind of expecting something like that to happen, given how Casey's always seems to have their tickets in the wrong slots every time Farmer H goes there to buy some for me.

Because he had spent an extra $10 on tickets, I went to my purse and extracted a ten. I took it to the living room on my way for a last bathroom break before the 90-minute trip. I was leaning on the back of the couch. I dropped the ten on the TV table beside the remote.

"Here's your ten."

The bill fell down on the table surface. Farmer H reached for it. And...

PICKED UP AN INK PEN AND HELD IT OUT TO ME!

"What are you doing? Why would I want that?"

"You said you wanted a pen."

"No. I gave you your money. And said, 'Here's your ten.' This is what causes all the problems around here. You can't hear, and you make up stuff you claim that I say. Then when I talk louder, you accuse me of yelling."

"I can hear! I hear you, HM. I just don't listen to you."

SWEET GUMMI MARY! WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

As if such a statement would be acceptable. A man telling his wife that he can hear her, but he chooses not to listen to her. 

I might as well tell him that I cook his supper, but I don't care if the food is done or expired. 

Pepper Is Hazardous To Our Health

This is the 7th day of new puppiness. Pepper has been here one week. He is settling into life at the Mansion. He hardly barks at all now. I was thrilled on Tuesday when I saw that he had eaten all of his moist puppy food. He had been just nibbling at it here and there. But Tuesday, it was all gone at 3:00. 

I told Farmer H to put some more food out. He argued that the can said a small dog only needs about 1/3 of the can a day. NO! If Pepper is eating it all gone, he needs to have the option of more. He's a growing puppy! Farmer H put out more last night, which he ate, and more this morning, which is now gone at 1:00. It's not like Pepper has to watch his figure to become a supermodel.

I go out several times a day for petting. Pepper gets into the laundry room, because I can't step in and close the door fast enough. He sniffs around, and finds things to chew on. NO! I have to help him back out on the porch by the nape of the neck. It takes three or four tries before success is achieved. In fact, yesterday I almost gave myself a concussion. In my haste to close the door behind Pepper, I slammed the doorknob into my bent-over noggin! That smarted. It left a knot. There might be a bruise by now. 

Farmer H says he gets Pepper out of the laundry room by throwing him!!! "Well. I don't actually THROW him. I scoop him up with my hand under his belly, and give him a toss out the door. He lands on his feet. He's fine. He turns around to come right back."

Pepper has razor-sharp toenails. And his teeth are nothing to sneeze at, either. Both Farmer H and I have scabbed arms from the maulings we get while picking up and petting Pepper. He's a little chewer, and must be told NO! He's pretty smart. When I say NO! and stop petting after a nip, he will sit down and look up at me. Before starting to nip again. It takes patience, but I think Pepper is learning.

Farmer H brings Pepper in the Mansion at 5:30 a.m. I hold him until he's too rambunctious. He settles down when Farmer H comes back into sight. Then I set him down on the floor, and he sniffs around, and tries to chew on our feet or pants legs. No accidents in the house.

Farmer H takes Pepper back to the porch before he leaves, and feeds him. Our biggest concern is when Pepper is old enough to run free. Farmer H is certain he will run after SilverRedO when he starts to town. The plan is for me to bring him in the Mansion, or feed treats to him and Jack on the back porch.

In the evenings, Farmer H takes Pepper out by the carport, where he sits on the toolbox he took out of SilverRedO, and watches Pepper explore. Farmer H pets Jack to let him know he's still special. Jack only growls when Pepper pounces on him and nips. I consider that fair warning. Pepper will have to learn canine manners.

A Hot Time In The Old Mansion Last Night

It's HERE! Our new heat pump. Which replaces the new heat pump we paid $8,500 for on September 9th. The Mansion has been running on Auxiliary Heat all through the frigid January cold snap. Now that it's about to hit 75 degrees on Wednesday, we have our new(est) heat pump installed.

I was a bit surprised when Farmer H said it was coming on Monday. That's President's Day. A holiday for many businesses. But Hick said the HVAC Guy was supposed to be here with it between 8:00 and 8:15 on Monday morning. 

"You'll be here, won't you? So I don't have to deal with it?"

"There ain't gonna be no dealing with it. He just has to connect it outside. I'll be here. All I'll have to do is switch over the thermostat off the Auxiliary Heat."

I believed Farmer H. Which is my own fault. I should have known better.

The HVAC Guy got here at 7:40. That's A.M.! In the morning! I was sitting on the short couch, shrouded in a fleece throw, because I'm always cold. Even though the Auxiliary Heat has been working just fine, keeping the Mansion at 70 degrees. Farmer H had just opened the shades to watch for his arrival, and exclaimed: "There he comes now!"

Farmer H grabbed a jacket and went out. I continued watching TV. Then I heard Jack, and saw him running along the trees in the front yard, looking over his shoulder. That was odd. You'd think he'd be looking at the driveway. Then I saw Farmer H come tooling along on his green tractor. Down along the trees, having gone up through the BARn field with it, then back down through our yard. He went around to the back of the Mansion.

About 15 minutes later, Farmer H came up the basement steps (13 rail-less). I thought he was going to adjust the thermostat, but he was only there for a warmer jacket.

"Why were you on the tractor? To help unload it?"

"No, to move it around to the back of the house. He's got the van parked out here on the gravel by my sheds (Shackytown Boulevard). He can't get it around the back because of the mud. And I might have to pull his van if he cain't get across the yard to leave. He's hooking it up now."

About an hour went by. I was snug under my fleece throw. Farmer H came up to set the thermostat for turning on the heat pump. I heard the Auxiliary Heat go off. Then nothing else kicked on. About five minutes later, 

A STRANGE MAN CAME UP THE BASEMENT STEPS!

He walked past me to the thermostat on the wall behind me. Farmer H huffed up the steps after him. If looks could kill, Farmer H would have expired in his tracks. He just gave a shrug. Good thing I was not in the bathroom with the door open! Good thing I was wrapped in a fleece throw.

"Yeah, it's set to run automatically," said HVAC Guy. "I'm not going to do anything just yet. Let's give it a few minutes. Sometimes these heat pumps just need a hard reset. You start taking them apart, but then they start running after about five minutes. Let's wait and see."

Back they went down those steps. A couple minutes later, I heard the heat kick on. I didn't know if it was Auxiliary Heat or the heat pump. But I heard it. And then I saw HVAC Guy's van go across the yard and up the driveway. Farmer H returned to the living room.

The new new heat pump has been running ever since. I can't tell a bit of difference, other than a different sound when it kicks on. Monday night, I was huddled on the short couch again, under the fleece throw, shivering as usual. Farmer H asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. I'm just cold. It's 70 degrees in here."

"I'm sweating!"

Well, no wonder. He was still wearing his town clothes, and not just tighty-whities.

It's About Time

T-Hoe has new tires! Four! You would expect that many, but then again, we're relying on Farmer H to get them... It's only been four or five months since he declared that he was getting tires for SilverRedO, and that T-Hoe definitely needed tires by December.

I can definitely tell a difference. I noticed it when I walked into the garage. As someone who agonizes over climbing into a vehicle, I'm attuned to such things. I swear that T-Hoe sits at least two inches taller now. Which is in addition to the two inches he gained when the suspension system was finally repaired. 

Farmer H says they are the same size tires as before. I don't think so. Even from outside, before stepping up on the running board, these tires seemed bigger. They filled more of the wheel well. The Pony couldn't tell a difference on Errand Day. That's traitor behavior! I needed VALidation. 

It's possible that the extra nine lbs of air pressure makes a two-inch difference, I suppose. Having the regulation 35 lbs of air as opposed to 26 lbs will make a car sit higher. It's not just hoisting myself in that makes me notice. It's also when I slide out. I feel like my feet aren't going to hit the ground!

The engine puttering noise was also supposedly "fixed." But Mick the Mechanic told Farmer H that he wasn't sure if that was it. That we'd just have to see if it worked. It seemed to, until yesterday, when I thought I heard the puttering upon starting. Farmer H stands by his story that it could be a lot of things.

Anyhoo... that little two-day sojourn at the shop cost us over $2000! Labor was $625. We used the money that was paid back for Farmer H's replacement of his wrecked trailer. Plus the rest from my miscellaneous fund that I add to every week.

At least T-Hoe is rolling on good tires. He even seems to drive better, though Farmer H says the tires were just put on, and not balanced or anything. Which seems odd. I thought that was part of the procedure for putting on tires. Farmer H probably didn't hear my question, and just made up an answer.

Looks Like We've Been FIRED!

I was surprised to find our gas bill on the kitchen table Thursday. That was 10 days before it was due! There might have even been time to mail the payment, but with the President's Day no-mail holiday on Monday, I didn't want to take a chance. I used the Guest Pay option online. 

I'm not sure why this bill was actually on time. It was twice the amount of the last bill, but we attribute that to the 10 days of below-zero weather during that billing period. Not a big deal. It was still only $150, even with Farmer H and Old Buddy working at Bargain House, and running the furnace.

Here's the most puzzling thing about this bill. It said the amount due was based on the ACTUAL READING! Right there on the bill! Read Type: Actual.

You may recall that the previous few bills included a form instructing us to READ OUR OWN METER. And then to go online and report the numbers within five days of the self-reading.

This time there was no form. No self-reading. Farmer H and I have been FIRED by the gas company! We are no longer meter-readers! Can't say I'll miss the monthly grind of such ungainful employment.