Farmer H decided to make his own supper on Thursday night. We were going to have ham and broccoli/cauliflower with cheese sauce. Farmer H said to put that off another night, that he'd make himself ham and eggs. He knows I can't fry eggs to his satisfaction. Don't think he was doing me a favor.
Well. He most certainly did me no favors. At least when he sneak-eats eggs, (something he did on a more regular basis before the neighbor dogs killed all our chickens, when we had a dozen fresh eggs every day), he washes the plate and the pan and the spatula and even puts them away. For secrecy. Since I KNEW he was having eggs, and even had to buy some at the store, Farmer H saw no reason to wash up.
"I can't believe you left that skillet for me to wash!"
"Well, when I wash it, you complain that I only wash my skillet, and not the other dishes sitting there. So I didn't want you to complain, so I didn't wash it."
"SERIOUSLY? That's your reasoning? That's not how it works. Now I'm complaining because YOU DIDN'T EVEN WASH YOUR OWN SKILLET!"
I can't believe Farmer H thinks he can get away with his shenanigans! The only bright side to this blatant test of Mrs. HM's sunny demeanor is that the Mansion had no gravy available for Farmer H to pour all over his fried eggs!
2 comments:
Geez! How hard is it to wash your own skillet and then think, while I'm washing I might as well do al these other things too. And then of course actually wash them.
River,
The attitude is the hard part. The attitude that there's a servant here to do it for you. Funny how he knew how to wash dishes before I married him. And how to clean a toilet, too!
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