The Mansion is full of the pitter-patter of big, sweaty feet again. The Carnivore, the Ravenousvore, and the Dog-Eating Pony have returned from the H-cation.
The Pony bypassed greeting little ol' me, and went straight down the porch to admire the chickens. His story is that he was looking for the dog to feed it a cheeseburger. I'm not buyin' it. There would never be a spare cheeseburger in a car with H, #1, and The Pony.
The #1 son came right in, plopped down on the couch, and said, "Somebody needs to do some laundry." At least he didn't mention the Short-Temper Cook kitchen.
Farmer H tried to trick me into going to town for a fish pond pump, but I declined the offer. I can't help it that a giant goldfish died on my watch. I fed all the fish as directed. It's not like he can't buy another one from The Devil for less than a dollar. So what if they take twelve years to get that big? There's plenty more fish in the fake plastic fish pond in need of a pump.
The #1 son and I celebrated their return by leaving the Mansion within 45 minutes to go get new flash drives. Hey! We got that 20% Off bag from Office Max. And we've been needing flash drives since April. He drove. I quivered.
The Pony and I bonded when I got home by watching America's Funniest Home Videos. People can be so cruel. Nobody better ever put an iguana on my back, or a spider in my bed. Or poke his head up out of the washing machine when I go to do laundry. Because I might just slam that lid down and sit on it for a couple of hours.
Which reminds me. Tomorrow I must start my work-cation. I will be hiking to the top of Soiled Garb Peak.
Somebody needs to do some laundry.
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2 comments:
If dirty laundry was a sign of affection, I wuld inded feel loved!
Kathy,
So I suppose you would automatically think it was YOU, when you heard, "SOMEBODY needs to do the laundry." I try to pretend that somebody ELSE needs to do it.
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