Farmer H is skatin' on thin ice! Actually, he's skatin' only on the surface tension of water, like some freaky flying insect on a pond. A dunking is in order.
Sunday, I started my day making a batch of my world-famous Chex Mix. It was the second batch in two days. The Pony assisted me by pulling it out of the oven for me to stir. I was virtually lame from doing that bending and twisting the previous day.
Anyhoo... I also wrapped some gifts. I didn't get home from town until 4:00. I'd had neither breakfast nor lunch, only a couple Chex that got stirred out of the pans, which The Pony didn't grab first. I met Farmer H in SilverRedO, coming out the gravel road. Of course we stopped alongside each other to chat. That's what we do. We own the road. Literally.
"I'm going to pick up a gun. It's a 45-minute drive there. And then back."
"I'm just getting home. I'm ready for lunch. I'm making you a terrible tater for supper. With the Ponytail Guy's potato, and some of his meatballs."
"Okay. That sounds good."
"I'm just now about to have lunch. So I may not come up until 6:30 or 7:00 to start your supper."
Well! The look I got was almost as crazy as that of a possible UPS bad-deliverer!
"Okay then. 6:30. That's when I'll come up. I guess you'll be home by then..."
"I will be home by 6:00!"
"Okay. I'll be up at 6:30."
Off he went. By the time I had contained the just-cooled Chex Mix, and mixed up some sauce for my sandwich, and slipped into my lair-wear, and descended to my lair... it was 5:00. I had 90 minutes to eat "lunch," scratch my scratchers, and catch up on my innernets. That hardly seemed fair.
It got even worse when Farmer H stumped down the stairs at 6:20, and started fiddling about in one of the safes on the other side of my lair wall.
"Are you over there?"
"Yes. I'm putting something in the safe."
"There's a problem with your supper. The Pony checked the date on the sour cream, and it was expired. So the sour cream from the Ponytail Guy, that is good until February, is over in the BARn."
"Mumble mumble mumble."
"I can't hear you."
"I can't hear YOU! DON'T WORRY I'LL FIND SOMETHING TO EAT!"
"I was only trying to tell you about supper, to see what else you might want."
"I SAID I'd eat it without sour cream! But don't bother! I'll make myself something!"
"Be that way! I was only trying to make supper for you!"
Seriously. I guess he'd starve to death if he didn't have a personal cook. But LET him find his own food. He IS an adult. I manage to find MY own food every day. Even THE PONY can feed himself!
I went on about my business, sorting through the scratcher gifts that I give to 14 family members. Some get more than others. There's a fine balance between apportioning them by assorted dates and spouses and types of tickets. Then I had to update my list for Farmer H and The Pony, to make sure they got equal kinds. Plus fill out a shipping label for Genius, before filling his care package box upstairs with treats and tickets and beef jerky and Chex Mix.
Around 8:15, I hauled myself upstairs, planning to wrap some more gifts, and get Genius's box ready for shipping on Monday. My late-night supper would be the six chicken nuggets from the Ponytail Guy, which I had been saving for several days, for a time when I wasn't making a meal for all three of us. The Pony had feasted on the remains of his Friday pizza.
Imagine my chagrin when I saw a Chinese Tupperware container beside the sink. Full of crumbs from crispy chicken nuggets from the Ponytail Guy.
FARMER H HAD EATEN MY SUPPER!
I'm pretty sure he did that on purpose. Don't you worry about Mrs. HM. I had a Banquet TV Dinner. The kind that used to be 99 cents, but is now over a dollar! BBQ Rib, corn, and mashed potatoes. It was really more of a McRib piece of pressed meat. But it was tasty enough to stave of starvation until 5:00 the following day...
5 comments:
Would it make any difference if you stamped your name all over the container your supper is in? Or if you carved your name into the actual food? Perhaps you could label it "Poison" with a skull and crossbones added. At least you had a back-up meal handy.
Karma will bite him in the butt (or gut) for what he did.
River,
I would have to carve my full legal name in every chicken nugget! Heh, heh! POISON would not dissuade Farmer H. He would try anything, except bread, which might have the faint aroma of MOLD!
The pantry is well-stocked with alternative, though not exactly appetizing, possibilities.
***
Sioux,
Maybe we'll get things Even-Stevened out on our next casino trip!
I wish I could pick up a bunch of TV dinners for the times I am in the middle of something I actually want to do. They have too much sodium. Not to mention that HeWho wants them 2 at a time. His is only allowed 1000 mg a day. He finally gave up his diet coke and is drinking water exclusively, realizing he could have more food if he wasn't getting sodium in his beverage. He is on maximum doses with BP meds at this point.
Kathy,
They ARE high in sodium. At least I don't eat them two at a time! I feel bad for HeWho's loss of Diet Coke, but health comes first. Men do not like being compliant. Diabetic Farmer H will not give up Casey's donuts, or casino pie. No amount of reasoning will get through to him, and I am not a 24-hour companion.
On the other hand, when I had gestational diabetes with both pregnancies, I did not cheat ONCE! I checked my blood sugar with a finger stick four times a day. I discovered that a handful of pretzel chips in my lunch made my sugar skyrocket, so into the trash went that bag. The only other surprise was that a Quarter Pounder With Cheese, picked up on the way to birthing classes after work, was also full of sugar. My guess is the ketchup! So no more Quarter Pounder.
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