The Road To The Grocery Store Is Paved With Ice, Sleet, Snow, And Inattention

With slippery precipitation on the ground Monday, Farmer H decreed that I should not get out for my town trip. I agreed. We only had one banana left, so I asked him to stop by 10Box on the way home, and get seven bananas.

You know how that goes...

Farmer H returned home around 3:00, with a bag and a receipt. Among the contents of the bag were 10 bananas. As for the receipt:

"Huh. What's all this other stuff? Mint Oreo. Dr Pepper. Fruit Slices. Salt Water Taffy!"

"I got some snacks for my storage unit."

"Then why are you putting them on the table and not leaving them in the bag?"

"Well. I had to get out the bananas. There. I put it back."

"Not the Oreos."

"They're for here."

"You know you're going to eat those snacks at your storage unit, too."

"Maybe..."

"I'm sorry. For some reason I thought you were diabetic."

"I am. It's snacks I give out to customers."

"So I sent you to the store to buy a dollar's worth of bananas, and you spent $18?"

"Yeah."

That's what happens when you give a man instructions.

FAVE Is Back!

Remember the Sunday before Christmas, when I last saw Fave, my favorite cashier at the Gas Station Chicken Store? Probably not. I wouldn't have remembered it myself, because I did not expect her to go missing. She works Thursday thru Sunday. On Sundays, as I leave, we both say "See you Thursday." 

Well. On that Thursday, the day after Christmas, Fave was not there! Man Owner and Woman Owner were working in her place. I didn't want to ask where she was. No need to bring it up, in front of other customers, in case there was something unpleasant involved.

Fave was not there the rest of the week. Nor at the beginning of the next week, as I had imagined that she might swap shifts with the Other Cashier.

Nor was Fave there on Thursday. I was getting concerned. But the clouds parted, and a ray of light shone on the Gas Station Chicken Store Friday, when I noticed Fave's car on the parking lot! She had been missing for 10 days!

Granted, Other Cashier had mentioned one day that Fave had called in sick. So I assumed she was still employed there. Indeed, Fave told me she HAD been sick. And still sounded a little bit hoarsey.

"What time did you come in yesterday? I was here! But I only worked a few hours. I must have left before you got here. We were doing inventory."

"Yes, I was later than usual. So glad you're back!"

"Me too!"

On Saturday afternoon, I told Fave: "You probably won't see me tomorrow. I'm not getting out if we get all that snow and ice."

"I KNOW I won't see you! Because we're going to be closed tomorrow!"

That is unusual, but I suppose Man Owner and Woman Owner don't want to be driving to the Gas Station Chicken Store on ice. They live over in Sis-Town, around the bend, on the same road as my sister the ex-mayor's wife. Man Owner was on the lot as I left, pushing one of those salt-dispensing contraptions that looks kind of like a baby stroller. Better safe than sorry. I'm glad none of their workers have to get out in such bad (predicted) weather.

Fave has been selling me $50 winners. I'm REALLY glad she's back.

Punishment For Another Good Deed

I'd barely restored feeling to my arms after vigorously patting myself on the back for making a big pot of vegetable beef soup to hasten Farmer H's cold along... when the unthinkable happened!

Guess who got a sore throat around noon on Saturday. Yep. Mrs. HM! 

How is that possible??? Farmer H's symptoms started Thursday morning, after his casino visit on Tuesday morning. I had been avoiding his presence since he declared sickness. In fact, I even cautioned him not to breathe on me while he was getting some Oreos from his stash on the kitchen table while I was sitting there at HIPPIE.

I was SO careful not to touch my face, lest I had picked up Farmer H's germs from the kitchen faucet or FRIG II's door handle or the TV remote. I suppose I didn't count on transferring his germs from one item to another.

I'm thinking that maybe I had used the TV remote after Farmer H went to bed, and it was riddled with his cooties, and then later I used my same hand to flip open the spout on my metal water bottle.

Anyhoo... I've been dosing Farmer H with an extra vitamin at night, in an attempt to help him fight off his sickness. Saturday evening, he sounded fairly normal, and was not snotty, and said he felt better.

I've already set out an extra vitamin for myself. 

Catering To The Invalid

Aside from being cranky, Farmer H is dealing with his sickness in a stoic manner. No whining (yet), and he continues to go about his usual business. I offered him a can of Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup on Friday morning, for his supper on Friday night, but Farmer H turned up his stuffy nose at it.

The weather has turned chilly (high in the upper 30s) as winter should be. So I made a big pot of Vegetable Beef Soup. Don't go thinking it was all from scratch. I used a packet of soup mix, and added frozen carrots/peas, hash brown diced potatoes, a can of green beans, and some carrot medallions. Plus a couple pounds of browned ground beef, fried diced onion, fire-roasted tomatoes, and tomato sauce. For seasoning, there was ground black pepper, and dashes of ketchup, BBQ sauce, Worcestershire sauce, Heinz 57 sauce, and steak sauce.

Mmm. I must say, it was delicious! At least from the bites I tried to sample it and adjust the flavor. This it just a saucepan set out for supper. No need to heat the giant pot. I'm sure I will end up freezing some of this soup. It freezes well, and is a treat later without the preparation. 

Farmer H declared that the soup was fantastic, and even had a second bowl. Plenty more where that came from. We will be eating it for three more days! I don't think there will be any complaints.

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.