If The Fine How-Do-You-Do Gets Any Finer, I'll Be In Carolina In The Morning

The fine how-do-you-do ain't what it used to be. It's even WORSE!

When I left for town on Wednesday, Farmer H was gone to get a haircut, and The Pony was in his room. He got off work at noon, because the acting supervisor didn't have anywhere to send him. I guess that's a good thing. They have two new workers since last week, and they're probably getting all the practice now.

Anyhoo... with The Pony at home, digesting his Garlic Chicken lunch from the newest Chinese restaurant in Hillmomba, I felt comfortable leaving the kitchen door unlocked. I did my town business, and returned within an hour. I hobbled up the steps, purse on my right arm, 44 oz Diet Coke in my right hand, grasping the rail for safety. All the while chatting with the dogs.

"Hey, Juno. Where's my buddy! There he comes! I don't see Copper Jack. Do you guys want PIE? Want some PIE! Don't look at me like that. Pie is a TREAT! You want a TREAT!"

The wagging of their tails said YES.

Farmer H said he was done with his apple pie that I'd baked last week. The one from the Ponytail Guy. Of course I told him to set it on the counter, but he left it taking up a third of the space on FRIG II's top shelf. So I told The Pony to set it out before I left for town. Not because I care about my dogs eating cold apple pie, but to make it easy for me to reach, right by the door.

Anyhoo... Juno slunk into her house to await her TREAT like a moray eel lurking in a rocky alcove to dart out for food. Jack was underfoot, wagging his whole chubby body that really does not need apple pie. 

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL NOT-HEAVEN???

I almost broke my wrist trying to turn the doorknob. It was LOCKED! Of course I had a few things to say about this as I tried to reach down in my purse to find the key, and manipulate the assorted keys on my key ring to get the house key, which is identical to another key which I don't know the purpose of. Maybe it's the OLD house key. Farmer H switches out doorknobs like he switches lanes on the highway. Too often, and without thought of the inconvenience it causes others.

 

"WHO LOCKED ME OUT? This is ridiculous! HELLOOOOO! Where is everybody? WHY am I locked out of my own house?"

I finally got inside, and brought out the pie pan, to flick fair shares to all three dogs, Copper Jack having made a fashionably late entrance.

 

"Don't throw nothin' on my head! I'm down here!"

 

Oh, come on. It's not like I was pushing pie through the porch cracks. I went to the rail and saw Farmer H in his straw hat, the kind you might see on somebody's old mule, pulling the lawnmower out from under the porch.

 

"Why am I locked out of my own house?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"When I left for town, I left this door unlocked. So I didn't have my keys in hand. I don't know how this door got locked in the time I was gone."

 

"I don't know how you got locked out."

 

"The Pony seems to be still in his room. The TV is off. Did you come in here?"

 

"Yeah. I got back from town. I came in and come down to the basement to come out and get the lawnmower."

 

"So YOU locked the door?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"How can you NOT KNOW? Either you did, or you didn't."

 

"When I came in, I thought you were already home, and down in your office."

 

"So you DID lock the door."

 

"I guess so. I didn't plan to come back out, and I thought you were inside."

 

"Why didn't you just SAY YOU LOCKED THE DOOR? That's all I wanted to know!"

 

It's like living in Crazy Town. Or The Village Of Perpetual Liars.