It's not like we were doing anything clandestine. I was sitting on the short couch, chatting with Farmer H in the La-Z-Boy. He'd just finished a delicious supper of Save A Lot pizza, a supreme, from which I'd picked off the peppers, and bestowed extra pepperoni from my side. We were chatting about one of our two regular topics: things he's done wrong, OR his Storage Unit Store.
I heard Jack and Juno barking in the front yard. Probably Copper Jack, too, but I'm not as attuned to his barks. It's like a new mom can recognize her baby's cry, but tunes out the others. I swear, I never believed that, until I had Genius, and knew IMMEDIATELY when it was him crying in the nursery. Proven by the fact that a nurse would show up within minutes, asking if I wanted him brought to my room.
Anyhoo...I figured the dogs were after a rabbit. We've been finding feet over by the Gator and dumpster. Evening is prime rabbit-chasing time. But then I heard feet stomping up the steps! I hoped nobody was getting a splinter in the hand from that rail! Then the doorbell rang. WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN??? Farmer H and I looked at each other.
"I'm sure it's nobody for me! You get it!"
"I don't know who it is!"
"You will when you open the door!" I made my getaway to the kitchen. No small part due to the fact that only a half-hour earlier, I'd been wearing my Christmas sock cap with the yarn ball on top, and the tassel ties, because it was cold down in my dark basement lair. That hat does my lovely lady mullet no favors.
From the safety of the kitchen, I heard Farmer H open the front door. I didn't hear any greeting. If it was one of his out-here friends, he would have talked in an abnormally loud voice. Because that's what Farmer H does. Even on the phone to them. But I didn't hear any pleasantries exchanged. Then I heard the door close. I rounded the FRIG II corner to see Farmer H holding a box.
SWEET GUMMI MARY! It was my poop box!
At my regular 6-month checkup at the
Heh, heh! I guess it's wrong of me to find joy in the sight of Farmer H holding my poop box. Even though the real joy would come if my poop was already in it.
3 comments:
But the box was empty when Hick was holding it, right? The only fair thing would be to make sure he has to carry it when it's full...
That's a new test?? We've been doing them out here for years. If you had a family history of bowel cancer you can request the test from age 40, apart from that everyone over 50 gets one sent automatically every five years. My mum had bowel cancer, so I eventually requested a colonoscopy and was given the all clear I wanted to hear after it.
Sioux,
The look on his face was priceless. If only he'd been around when the box was "occupied," I would have asked him to move it somewhere!
***
River,
I've heard about tests you can mail back, but this must be something doctors (and nurse practitioners!) can get more money for pushing. It's been running TV commercials, so there's some agenda with it. Must be the new thing for a certain pharmaceutical company.
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