Nothing like an extra creep thrown into the mix, stretching this current series unexpectedly to FOUR.
Tuesday morning, I was snoozing away, recovering from Monday morning's rude awakening by Farmer H after a scant 4.5 hour night. I actually woke up at 9:00, but figured I'd treat myself to another hour of slumber. I heard the dogs carrying on, and what sounded like a motor. Meh. Not my problem. Nobody I was expecting, no packages being delivered, Farmer H off to physical therapy with This Guy (back surgery) who sold us the $5000 house. I sighed and nodded off.
I woke up again at 9:45, and got up to start my day. At 10:15, kicked back in the La-Z-Boy, still with bed-head and my jammies, I noticed movement over the top of HIPPIE's monitor. Sweet Gummi Mary! It was a silver pickup truck with a camper! I don't know anyone who drives that vehicle. Crap! The shades were open, and I had the light on because the day was gloomy with soon-to-arrive rain. I knew he had seen the light, and possibly ME, depending on his eyesight acuity.
I put on my heather green baseball style jacket that was hanging on the stair banister. You know. To go with my blue pajama pants with a sun/moon pattern, and the yellow stripes of my button-down short-sleeve cotton shirt. Yep. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Up the porch steps, followed by Jack. Juno and Copper Jack were still protecting me from the driveway.
Of course I opened the door. I'm not the brightest 20-watt bulb in Farmer H's workshop. It was some weird guy with a beard, asking if Farmer H was home. Of course I told him no. DUH! My brilliance was diminishing by the second.
Weirdo launched into a long sad tale about buying several dump truck loads of gravel, 3/4 inch. The truck driver dumped them in the wrong place. That being THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. Weirdo couldn't even drive his truck up to his house. He said Farmer H had done some work for him before, moving gravel, and he was hoping that Farmer H could do it again.
Again, I emphasized that I was completely home alone, what with Farmer H gone over to Bill-Paying Town with This Guy, and not expected back at any certain time. But I said that I could call him, and have him give Weirdo a call back. "Who should I say stopped by?"
Can you believe it? Weirdo would not give me his name! Sweet Gummi Mary! It's as if he was afraid I might do something to him, I guess, and he was being safer rather than sorry or dead! So then I said, "Does he have your number?" Weirdo didn't know, but said, "I guess I can give it to you."
So then I said I'd have to get something to write with, and turned my back on Weirdo, leaving the door open! It's a wonder I didn't disappear from foul play, my body leaving no forwarding address!
Anyhoo... I wrote down the guy's number, and he left, kind of put-out that he wasn't getting tractor service right that moment. Farmer H didn't remember Weirdo's name, but said he had moved gravel for him before. It's the people whose kids HOS (Farmer H's Oldest Son) built that Bus-Waiting Shack for down by the mailboxes. When Farmer H came home around 2:00, he took his tractor up there for 3.5 hours.
"That was a lot more gravel than I expected! The guy couldn't even get to his house. I couldn't hardly get the tractor where I needed it, until I moved a bunch out of the way. The guy and his son stood around watching for a while, then got in the car and left. You'd think he might have at least offered to pay me something, but he didn't. I did my good deed for the day, anyway."
Actually, Farmer H did TWO good deeds, by taking This Guy to his therapy, and then the gravel. Probably over four hours of good deed.
I would have been upset about the gravel thing, but then Farmer H said they have an older son who works at the prison, and WALKS HOME if they can't pick him up. That's FOUR MILES! I've seen him on the county road in his uniform, but didn't know who it was. If somebody wants to work that bad, I don't mind Farmer H donating $5 of diesel gas, and 2.5 hours of his time to help!