I've gotten used to Farmer H being home 24/7/365. His retirement has definitely made more work for me. Not that he would admit it.
This evening, as I walked from the kitchen to the master bedroom, behind Farmer H in his La-Z-Boy, my white-socked Croc-less feet (I leave them under the desk in my dark basement lair when I make sorties upstairs for supper-making--the CROCS, not the feet) were jabbed by foreign objects. Oh, they're not so much FOREIGN as they are from outside the Mansion, on the grounds. They are actually PART OF the grounds. The ground. Dirt. Mud. Clods carried in by Farmer H's boots, loosened as he tromps across the kitchen and carpet.
"Ow! I'm tired of stepping on mud clods!"
"Well, I don't know how you're stepping on mud."
Seriously? SERIOUSLY?
How can Farmer H not know how that happens? As I puttered around in the kitchen, I muttered that of course he didn't know how I was stepping on mud. Obviously, it had nothing to do with him being outside all day over at his BARn and Freight Container Garage, and feeding the goat and mini pony, and walking through the house in his waffle-soled work boots. Nothing at all. Obviously, I was digging up clods of mud in the yard with a spoon, and sprinkling them around the kitchen and living room so I could step on them and complain.
Farmer H has got me figured out.
6 comments:
Ain't retirement grand? Double-retirement (the husband and wife both retired) is even grander.
Tee hee.
Sioux,
Yes. You have it to look forward to. I'm betting it will exceed your wildest dreams...
You know what? I walk around the garden in my sneakers, watering, moving pots etc and then go straight inside and wander around doing things there, then I sit down and happen to glance at the floor and wonder what the heck is all over my floor and where did it come from? Because I wipe the sneakers on the grass before I come in. I just forget about the muck stuck in the treads.
River,
I don't think Farmer H is wiping his feet before he comes in. He wouldn't hesitate to use that excuse to get himself off the hook!
I KNOW! I never go bare or sock footed. I expect the chunks of dirt, but mine come with gravel. Bad enough that it comes into the kitchen and living area, but it really pisses me off in the bathroom and our bedroom! Nothing quite like stepping out of the shower onto the rug that should always be picked up and placed on the side of the tub, but isn't, and get all manner of dirt and gravel on my clean feet!!
Kathy,
YOUCH! GRAVEL! Every now and then, I step the center of my bare heel on a pebble on the tile floor of the bathroom, and it hurts like NOT-HEAVEN! But for the most part, Farmer H just tracks in mud clods that crumble upon contact.
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