Some Days Are Like That

Did you ever have one of those days when things just don't work out the way you'd planned?

I don't mean a really bad day, like when Brownsville Station got caught smoking in the boys' room, after everybody was on their case, from their teacher all the way down to their best girlfriend. Nope. Just an inconvenient day. Like I just had. Today. AND yesterday.

Did you ever think you were going to snap a little picture with your phone, just a whimsical air-bendy advertising yellow stick-man dude, while your little Pony was paying for gas at the convenient store that sells neither good Diet Coke nor gas station chicken? So you put down your window, ready the phone, wait until cars drive out of the frame, and SNAP. But instead of the whimsical bendy dude, you just get dude.

Ramrod strait. Like he just graduated summa cum laude from finishing school. Or had spinal fusion while you were fumbling with the zoom.

This morning, after arising at 4:50 a.m., getting The Pony's lunch ready, showering, and settling down for a chair nap...I got the call that school was canceled for flying snow (heh, heh, I just mis-typed that as "flying snot" which is incredibly more interesting that what is to follow).

The Pony had put off wheeling the trash dumpster to the end of the driveway until this morning. That's because it's only half the work in the morning, because I pick him up at the end of the driveway. So this morning he had to get dressed by 8:00 instead of spending the day in his pajamas, and put on a real coat, no hoodie, and zip it up and raise the hood and wear gloves to brave the 2-degree wind chill.

Hick sent a text for The Pony to go out and feed the chickens and goats, but since he sent it at 6:45 a.m., and The Pony was still abed, I completely forgot until 4:30. Sorry, chickens. Goats, not so much.

I was just drifting off for a chair nap at 8:50 when Hick's optometrist (NOT The House of Charlatans Optical Delusions Emporium and Professional Prevaricators Shoppe) called to remind him of his appointment. But they did not mention the date or time. Some reminder. Off with their heads!

Soup sounded good for supper, so I combed the cabinets to see if I had the ingredients. Yes. I grabbed some frozen hamburger (not from the pantry, how cold do you think we keep it in here, anyway--you must stop listening to Genius), soup starter mix, and canned veggies. You didn't think I'd actually cook up some Bigguns when canned was available, now did you? Huh. I cranked open the cans with my hand can-opener, aggravating my imagined case of carpal tunnel syndrome, and discovered that the tomato sauce was actually diced tomatoes. Oh, well. That goes good in vegetable beef soup. Then I saw that the green beans were not the short cut, but regular length. Guess people will just have to practice balancing them in a spoon. Oh, and the potatoes were not sliced, but were whole small. I jammed a knife down in that can to diminish them. At least the carrots were just right. Goldilocks will pick them out for her bowl. Hick will be pleased. He can have an easier time eating his tower of soup with a fork. To make up for my tomato sauce, I poured in a small jar of pizza sauce. Nobody will know, after adding my other liquids like Worcestershire, Heinz 57, ketchup, hickory BBQ, steak sauce, minced garlic, and some fresh ground black pepper, and Splenda.

Some Red Lobster Cheddar Bay Biscuits sounded like they would be tasty with that soup. Round about time for Hick to get home, I whipped up a bowl of dough and plopped them into my oven with a non-heating bottom heating element. I put the butter in the microwave for melting, getting it ready to stir in that garlic powder that came in a packet. Meanwhile, I Frankensteinized a Walmart big salad for The Pony. He only likes the lettuce and cheese, not the strips of chicken and bacon bits included in the Ranch Cobb. Hick arrived, and said he did not want any salad, so I set out the chicken and bacon and half egg for Juno, because we were on that salad's third day.

The biscuits looked done. I called to Hick to get his serving first, thus making it easier for The Pony and me to dip out some liquid for our soup. He rushed in like Man-O-War out of the gate, dished up his soup with a slotted spoon, and commandeered three Cheddar Bays. As The Pony was adding more ground pepper and salt to his cup o' soup, I put the finishing touches on his salad. The Pony was ogling the biscuits. That's when I remembered. THERE WAS NO BUTTERY GARLIC TOPPING ON THE CHEDDAR BAYS!

I grabbed the liquid gold from the microwave and ripped open that packet. Sent The Pony to Hick in his recliner, where he had retired after a hard day's work to feed on his delectable soup tower with his feet up. "Tell Dad his biscuits have been recalled for lack of garlic butter." I slathered them up and sent them back. The Pony chose three biscuits for himself, after gladly painting them with butter from a BBQ brush.

"Hey, we have some garlic butter left. Can I just take that and dip my biscuits in it?" Genius does not call The Pony a Butterton for nothing.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

"I'm only taking three biscuits, because I have quite a lot of food here."

Oh, to be 15 again. When the day stretched out endlessly, you recovered quickly from near-zero chores, food appeared magically for your consumption, and when you took a picture of a whimsical air-bendy advertising yellow stick-man dude, it turned out like this: