If you are a reader of my not-so-secret blog, and I'm pretty sure you are...you may recall how Farmer H's alter ego shamed my alter ego about a burned-out light bulb. Here's the gist of it, the meat and potatoes, in case you don't want to read the whole dang thing now:
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“Why are so many lights burning out? They never used to do that.”
“Val. They’re not meant to be on ten hours a day!”
“WHAT? You’re crazy! Of course they’re meant to be on. They’re light bulbs!”
“Normal people don’t do that.”
“You are so full of it! So you’re saying that people walk around in the dark, to spare their light bulbs?”
“No. But they don’t leave them on!”
“Say a person gets home from work around 4:30 or 5:00. They turn on the lights in their house, and get supper, and do homework with the kids, and watch TV, and one of them probably stays up until at least midnight, or maybe longer. You’re saying they don’t have the lights on during that time?”
“No. They don’t. They turn them off when they leave the room, and then turn them back on when they come back.”
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I'd print this out, and confront Farmer H with the evidence in black-and-white, but he's the Dean of Denial. He'd say I just now typed it up. Fabricated it! Although I'm pretty sure he wouldn't use the word fabricate. That's something he'd think goes in the dryer to prevent static.
Anyhoo...funny thing about printed-out, not-so-last words. They have a way of coming back to bite Farmer H on his tighty-whitey-covered rumpus.
Monday afternoon, Farmer H was sitting in the La-Z-Boy, watching The Andy Griffith Show, eating roast and vegetables when I left for town. They were intended for supper, but he was eating lupper, with an early exit planned for an auction. The day was gloomy, and Farmer H had turned on the living room lights to see his roast. We normally don't turn those lights on until evening. The front window allows plenty of sunlight if the sun is available, and enough for computing and TV watching if it isn't. I guess roast has different requirements.
As far as I knew, Farmer H had no other plans until auction time. Imagine my surprise when I returned from town, and saw that SilverRedO was not parked under the carport. The house was locked. Yet when I entered, I noticed that Andy Griffith was still teaching Barney and Opie lessons, and THE LIVING ROOM LIGHTS WERE ON!
No. I didn't bring up the subject when Farmer H returned from a sortie to his Storage Unit Store for an individual sale. I'm saving it for future ammunition. I will start out with,
"Remember when it was MY FAULT that a light burned out in the basement...?"
8 comments:
I hope you took photos to back up your future statements. Because you know he will deny everything. Is he, or his ancestors, originally from Egypt, somewhere close to De Nile perhaps?
River,
I did not take photos! But I can reconstruct the evidence, and then take a picture! He'll never think to check the time stamp of the photo...
Not sure of Farmer H's origins. He has a coat of arms that I think is English, not Egyptian. But I guarandarntee you that his ancestors are no strangers to De Nile.
Farmer H's ancestors came from the land of Teflon... Nothing sticks to him.
Sioux,
Heh, heh! I agree. And he stinks when he is over-heated, and steams just before a melt-down.
Laughing at Sioux and you.
River,
I will speak for Sioux, too, and say, "We don't mind being buffoons for your entertainment pleasure."
Always a good thing to have stored ammunition for those unexpected opportunities.
Kathy,
Some people have a mind like a steel trap. I have a mind like an armory.
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