All during her leisure time, which is almost 24/7 now that she's retired...Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is persona incommunicado. Not by her choice, though she is a semi-recluse. Nobody has anything to say to her when she's available. Unless you count those telephone scammers. Otherwise, she sits in front of her New Delly, frittering away time that could be used productively.
You know what happens when she ventures out, right? The minute she hits the road, her phone blows up with folks who simply can't get along without her. Namely Farmer H, the #1 Son, and The Pony. #1 is off the hook this time. Since his declaration yesterday that he had traveled from College Town into the eclipse totality zone, and was contentedly day-drinking at a Mexican restaurant, and getting his science on, and assuredly NOT driving.
First cat out of the bag today, I got a text. I was on the blacktop county road, and not able to respond, until I pulled over at the turn-off to the field where the working dog protects the sheep. It was a picture. Of what, I'm not quite sure. I didn't put on my bifocals, since I don't drive with them. But I sent a quick text back to Farmer H to ask what it was.
TEETH. He said.
I found that out when I was stopped at the stop sign before pulling out onto the lettered county highway. Teeth. Hm. Stupid me. I'd assumed that if Farmer H sent me a picture while he was working, it must have something to do with his work. But at first glance, this photo looked like dog teeth. That'll teach me to assume.
Anyhoo...I found out later that it was a picture of two of HOS's (Farmer H's Oldest Son) teeth. On a square of gauze. He had them pulled today. And he's very happy about it, because they were hurting him so much last week that he went to the ER and got antibiotics.
A few miles farther down the road, I got a text from The Pony. I found that out when I glanced down at the phone while on the divided road that runs by the bowling alley. When I got to a stoplight in town, I read that he had bought some more textbooks. So I just thumbed a call to him, so as not to be a distracted driver.
We chatted until I got to the Casey's where I only buy lottery tickets, out by my bank. The two clerks were sitting out front (one of them had even brought a folding chair), having a smoke, talking to a lady smoking in a white car parked in front of the door. Since they were probably in no hurry to help me, I pulled in at my favorite spot over at the side, and continued with The Pony. Then he said he really needed to finish his shower, and go to campus, where he was meeting a friend to borrow a flash drive, having lost his when he laid it on a chair.
The rest of my errands were uneventful, and I made it back home by 1:00, to sit in front of New Delly with no human contact.
Such is the life of a retired Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
4 comments:
Where was the other Casey's clerk sitting, if not on a folding chair? (I've never seen a bench in front of a Casey's, but perhaps out in the country, there are so many retired folk like you (and soon-to-be-retiree Farmer H--I had to slip that in), every establishment needs a bench?
Sioux,
Clerk 2 was sitting on the sidewalk curb. No benches. We can't have folks resting their rheumatism-riddled rumpuses out front of businesses, whittlin' and spittin' chaw and shaking their arthritic fists at young whippersnappers dropping pennies all willy-nilly across the parking lot.
I've been doing nothing for the past year & I'm\ still not finished!!
fishducky,
I hear it's a never-ending task!
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