I was lucky on Thursday afternoon, to have my grocery carrier-inner at home when I arrived after shopping. Don't get me started on the other issue he had created just before. We'll get to that tomorrow.
Anyhoo... Farmer H was sitting in the metal chair on the side porch, and rushed into the garage before T-Hoe's only-two-working-sensor tires had stopped rolling. He rushed around to T-Hoe's rear and grabbed the five bags. Which, I might add, had to be re-bagged at Country Mart, because young people have no idea that you don't split up cold plastic boxes of food to put one with bread, one with bananas, and one with bags of frozen chicken nuggets. Especially after Mrs. HM has gone to the trouble to set like items with like items on the conveyor.
Anyhoo... Farmer H whisked those groceries to the kitchen cutting block. I had told him that I bought more pudding for him, and a package of bologna that he requested. I'm sure he was excited.
When I got into the house, Farmer H just walked away! Leaving two boxes of frozen mini cheeseburgers, and one box of frozen mini hot chicken sandwiches there on the cutting block. He was fiddling with his phone.
"What was my business address at my lockers? I keep meaning to put it in my phone, but I forgot."
Farmer H sat down on the long couch, waiting for me to find that info for him. Which required going back around the kitchen counter, to the box on the table, where I have filed his business receipts, to dig through and find his business address.
Sweet Gummi Mary! It's not like the IRS was using a battering ram to blow through the door! That task could easily have waited until the groceries were put away, and I was sitting at the kitchen table.
Farmer H always finds a way to SEEM like he's helping me, while NOT REALLY helping me. I don't know what urgency prevented him from putting his mini sandwiches out of the boxes and into the freezer.
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