Don't jump to conclusions. My mouth isn't watering with anticipation for something delectable. It's watering in that pre-vomiting kind of way. Sit down, and have some smelling salts at the ready. Don't be thinking you're so much tougher than Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.
Saturday evening, Farmer H decided not to attend the auction. He was planning a heated, jet-whirlpool soak in the big triangle bathtub, with a red Solo cup containing some of the giant jug of whiskey he'd been given by a non-drinking fellow storage unit baron. He was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, getting ready to commence his spa treatment, when he said,
"I think I'll make an appointment with a podiatrist, to get my toenails trimmed."
"WHAT? That's not what they're for! They have medical degrees!"
"Your grandma used to."
"I think you're confusing her with my step-grandma, who asked my grandpa's cardiologist to clip his toenails at the end of the appointment, thinking they were seeing the podiatrist."
"He did it, too, didn't he? The cardiologist."
"Well, yes. I think he was in shock. But that doesn't mean I want you to make an appointment with a cardiologist, either."
"OR...you could do it for me!"
"You KNOW I hate feet with a passion! I'm gagging, just thinking about your feet and those big toes. But I would find a way to do it, somehow, to prevent you from making an appointment with a podiatrist."
"I can't reach my toes good."
"I trim mine while sitting on the toilet. NOT in the La-Z-Boy."
Farmer H was at that very moment bent over. Clipping. Then I saw what he was using. The tiny clippers that have laid on the electric-fireplace mantel for years. The clippers from when The Pony was a baby. BABY nail clippers!
"I can't believe you think you can use those clippers! Your crusty hooves will pop those clippers apart. You need the big heavy toenail clippers from the bathroom drawer. AND you need to clip after your bath. When the nails are softer. You're going to cut yourself and get an infection!"
IF I am tasked with trimming Farmer H's toenails, I'm going to need a welder's helmet and gloves, one of those shields that riot police use, and maybe a long-handled hoof-trimmer from a veterinarian.
SWEET GUMMI MARY! The things I find myself willing to do to ensure myself rides to Oklahoma, and casinos.
7 comments:
Forget it. Fahgeddaboutit completely. Put the whole thing out of your mind. Let Farmer H pay a podiatrist. We have tenants here who have home care people help them with showering and stuff and probably get their toenails clipped by the carers too. Others go to a monthly podiatrist appointment for the clipping and to have their calluses scraped.
Oh. I'm not even repulsed by feet, and I wouldn't think of agreeing to trim my PITA's yellow hoove-nails.
What kind of medal would you earn if you did Farmer H's toenails?
River,
I MUST put it out of my mind. My heart skipped three beats when I read the CALLUSES!
***
Sioux,
I think I would earn a Medal of Vomitorious Service, and hopefully a large cash award.
Besides, that IS what Podiatrists are for, as well as all the other foot problems.
River,
Farmer H is intrigued with watching two "foot doctor" shows. Maybe he's hoping to see something freaky in the waiting room! He went to a dermatologist yesterday, and he's a big fan of the show "Dr. Pimple Popper."
I love the new show, "My Feet Are Killing Me", as well as Dr. Pimple Popper! That is why he thinks the podiatrist should clip his nails. They have some really messed up toes on that show. When my Dad was under hospice care, I was appalled that no one had cut his nails. On a visit with daughter, Adrienne in tow, she whipped out her clippers and lotions and all manner of toe and finger pampering and set to work on her Granddaddy's feet and hands. I love it when she does mine. I always leave callous free with soft skin and perfectly trimmed and painted nails. That being said, I would not do that for just anyone. Maybe my Daddy and maybe, I say MAYBE, HeWho, if HeWho was unable to clip his own nails. No need to start until he really needs me, else he will expect it!
Kathy,
Oh my gosh! Adrienne is my hero! Such a strong constitution, to be able to handle FEET!
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