Farmer H was kind of on his best behavior for Thanksgiving. However... he's still a man, living in a man's world. You know, that entitled world where other people, 99 percent of them being women, do things for you that you don't want to do, because it's beneath your station.
The Pony and I were still chatting and chowing down on our main courses when Farmer H finished and was ready for the first of his three desserts. He got up from the table and walked around the counter to get it out of FRIG II. But not before first shoving his empty plate and salad bowl down the table, to his left, and out of his way for dessert-feasting. Because, you know, carrying his empty plate and bowl to put beside the sink, or even setting them on that kitchen counter an arm's reach away, would have been a chore much too tedious for a MAN.
I was having none of that! As Farmer H got up to fetch his second dessert, I called him out.
"Uh. Why are you leaving your dirty dishes on the table for ME to fetch later? There's nothing wrong with your arms. Take them to the sink."
Farmer H grunted, which is his manner of showing how displeased he is with picking up after himself. But he took his plate to where it was supposed to rest and wait for me to wash it. Saving me (but more likely The Pony) the effort of transporting it.
For our supper of leftovers Friday night, I warmed the pan of roasted vegetables on the stove. I had the slotted spoon I'd been stirring it with laying on a paper plate next to it. Farmer H's plate had been set out on the cutting block, along with all silverware he might need. But he was in charge of getting the foods out of FRIG II to spoon out his portions, and warm in the microwave.
I was back at the kitchen table, out of his way, when Farmer H came to heat his meal. I turned to look just as he was up to something shady. He had placed his plate in the microwave, full of ham, hash brown casserole, and rolls. He closed the microwave door, and reached for the slotted spoon.
"Wait! What are you doing? Cover your plate so it doesn't spatter all over the microwave!"
"I was going to..."
"But you already closed the door. And you're holding the spoon for the vegetables."
"Well. I was going to use the plate you have the spoon on to cover my food."
"What then? Lay the greasy spoon on my counter, so I'll have to clean it?"
"No."
"So you were just going to hold the spoon until the microwave was done? I don't believe you. You just didn't want to lean over two feet and get another paper plate out of the holder."
"Whatever..."
Uh huh. Caught red-handed and one-paper-plated! Either way, he would have been making more cleanup work for me, whether it was microwave or counter.
I really don't know how Farmer H's mind works. Other than overtime to make my life harder.
4 comments:
I'm inclined to think that he just doesn't think. Or perhaps he did plan to hold the spoon until the microwave was done and then put the plate back on the counter for the spoon to rest on?
River,
That's right. He doesn't think of the extra work he's making for me. If he's thinking, it's about himself.
That would be such an odd way to wait for the microwave, while holding a big slotted spoon. Which means that it's highly possible that IS what Farmer H was doing!
Once, long, long ago, my mother-in-law was at our house for a visit. We both worked tri-state areas (Georgia, Florida, and Alabama), sometimes 12 hours a day. Weekends were for getting ready for the next week. He-Who was a suit and tie guy for the job with a paging company. He liked his shirts with a heavy starch, so I sent them out for less than $2 a shirt. Not that I am incapable of doing a fine job and did so when I didn't work outside the home. Anyway, she was "helping" me sort laundry and I stopped her as she was about to do a load of his SUITS!. She assured me that they could go in the wash and I was adament that they could not. THen she grabbed up the shirts he had worn for the week. She was apalled that I didn't do those myself and quipped, "Do you at least wash his underwear.?" I said that he did not have an ailment that would prevent him from washing his own clothes, that I worked more hours than he did during the week. She did everything for him while he lived at home and that is the reason he thinks himself to be exempt from the daily chore the rest of us are subject to! How was Farmer H's mom when she reared him?
Kathy,
It wasn't Farmer H's mom who spoiled him. She was in and out of the mental hospital all through his childhood. I guess the blame goes to his first wife, since before that he had to fend for himself. His blind dad surely didn't pamper him!
WASH THE SUITS??? Was she batcrap crazy? I'm going to say YES!
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