No Joy In This Comeuppance

On our way home from the casino on Christmas Eve afternoon, I noticed Farmer H rubbing his eyes as he was driving A-Cad.

"That is NOT a smart thing to do! You just left a CASINO! Where you were touching slot machines that a million other people touched. You're going to catch something."

"No, HM, I'm not going to catch something. I was just rubbing my eye."

"How do you think germs get into your body? You are giving them an engraved invitation!"

The Pony in the back seat just shook his head. Probably for me berating Farmer H about his hand hygiene, but I would like to think, also in small part, as a realization of the risk Farmer H was taking.

Well, what do you know! Farmer H was fine. I guess he dodged the casino-virus bullet. THAT TIME!

On New Year's Eve morning, we went to the casino again. I did not directly observe Farmer H rubbing his eyes this time. But he must have done it. That was on Tuesday. By Wednesday evening, Farmer H said he didn't feel well. Like he was coming down with something. Went to bed at 6:55 p.m. Got up on Thursday morning at 5:15 sounding like his head was in a bucket.

I did NOT say "I told you so." Farmer H was a bit cranky. Now I have to avoid his germs. As always, Farmer H's antics lead to extra work for ME!

Mrs. HM, The False Accuser

I couldn't find my pen on Tuesday. The black pen on the kitchen counter, by the box of Puffs With Lotion and the container where I keep the stamps. The Pony was looking for it. We were in a hurry to leave for a casino trip. But no pen. I went to look for it myself. Gone, baby, gone.

Of course I blamed Farmer H. He's taken that pen before, and left it on the marred coffee table in front of the long couch. Once we returned home, I interrogated Farmer H about that pen while looking on the TV table next to his recliner.

"I didn't take your pen, HM."

"Well, you've taken it before, and now it's gone. It's just like this one here on the TV table."

"I didn't take it. I only have this one here."

"That's not anything like it. What's THIS one?"

"I don't know. I've never seen that one before."

"Sure you haven't. It's not the one I'm looking for. It's too heavy. But I sure didn't bring it in here. I've never seen it. I'm taking now, though. To put in the kitchen."

"Go ahead. I've never seen that pen in my life."

So I had a replacement pen, but not the kind I wanted. As luck (or that smirking Even Steven) would have it, my internet was down the next day. I sat down to write out the updated letter for dividing the Flip House property into two lots. 

As I reached for the black pen I keep on the kitchen table, my eye was drawn to the box sitting beside it that holds the paid bills and records for the flip house. On top of the papers was ANOTHER BLACK PEN! That's when I remembered that when moving my "office-y" stuff off the kitchen table for Christmas Dinner, I had placed my table pen in that box. 

I must have needed the other one in the kitchen, and asked The Pony to hand it to me to write on the back of winning scratchers after our feast. Then when the box was returned to the table, I didn't notice the pen in it, because I already had an identical pen there where I usually kept the other one.

Poor Farmer H. I meant to relay this info to him last night, but he went to bed before 7:00! It still doesn't explain that mysterious heavy black pen. I guess I'll put THAT one back on the TV table next to Farmer H's recliner. In case he's needing a pen, you know. So he'll leave mine alone.

There Are None So Deaf As He Who Will Not Hear

In A-Cad, on a car trip back from the city, I asked The Pony if there was anything he wanted to take home. Any snacks or foods from our pantry.

"Oreos? I have Oreos."

"No, Mom. Remember, I HAVE Oreos, that I bought to bake an Oreo Cake to take for Christmas Eve, but I ran out of time and couldn't make it."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. But I still have those Oreos. A whole pack, and another half pack left over from the cakes I made."

"What? We have OREOS? I would eat Oreos."

"I told you all about them. After I gave you that baggie of halves left over from decorating the top and around the cakes."

"You didn't tell me!"

"Yes. I DID. Why would I want to keep Oreos secret? I hate Oreos. And I don't want to waste them. I always tell you about the leftovers. They're in the pantry, because I had to clean off the counter to set the Christmas Day food on there."

"I would have taken those Oreos to my store! To snack on them."

"You still can. If the mice don't get them first! Or maybe you can put them in your non-working mini-fridge."

"I put stuff like that in my microwave!"

Anyhoo... I guess I'll set out the Oreos so Farmer H can SEE them, and not forget about them, and accuse me of withholding Oreos.