Master of the house
Doling out the farm
Ready with a fist-shake
That implies alarm
Yesterday morning, Hick stalked to the front door before leaving for work. Normally, he stomps past me in the La-Z-Boy trying to grab six winks, throws open the laundry room door to feed the dogs on the back porch, tromps through the kitchen to grab his sausage-egg-muffin out of the microwave with two handles, and tells me "Bye" as soon as I've dialed the phone to talk to my mom.
I thought he was going to holler down to The Pony. Sometimes he does that. He's kind of fond of the little guy. But no. He grabbed the doorknob and rattled it. Made a big show. "Yesterday when I came home, this door was unlocked!"
Let the record show that Val and The Pony do not use the front door. We're kitchen door people. Hick is the one who uses the front door. He comes in from work through the kitchen, gets underfoot for a minute, then goes outside to tend his animals, and perhaps work a bit on his Little Barbershop of Horrors. Then he comes in either through the front or the kitchen with a handful of eggs, which he proceeds to rinse in my sink, a behavior which I have forbidden for nigh on four years now. It is not unusual for Hick to return to the wild after eating his supper that has been lovingly heated in the oven or warmed in the microwave by his faithful wife Val. Many's the time The Pony and I have heard the front door open and slam while we are watching our evening programs.
Oh, the outrage! That front door was left unlocked ALL DAY! Never mind that sometimes when I ascend from my dark basement lair in the wee hours, I see the knob is unlocked, and turn it to secure the homestead. I have mentioned this lapse in security to Hick before, but he swears it is fine, because he turns the deadbolt.
Intermittently, it would seem.
Uh-oh.
ReplyDeleteWe have a similar battle in Crankyville, but it is over the front light.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the Seinfeld jingle, now i'll have that running through my head all night!
A bit of Seinfeld in the night is always good...
ReplyDeleteYesterday I got caught in a horrendous downpour. My skirt--and everything else--was soaked. It was a WWWP night, so when I got to our meeting place, I asked the hostess if I could use a towel, to keep her chair wet.
After all, I wouldn't want anyone to think I Poppi-fied her furniture...
Mine comes in and out all day, leaving the kitchen door unlocked. At bedtime he turns off the lights and flops into bed while I'm brushing my teeth. I can't tell you how many times I've had to go flip the lock that HE left open. He says, "Well you should. You are the last one up." One of these days I'm going to show him UP!
ReplyDeleteAnd so it goes... Continuing adventures in the life of Val the Victorian.
ReplyDeleteCatalyst,
ReplyDeleteI imagine that's what our dogs would have in their thought bubble as they watched masked burglars wearing berets and striped shirts carrying our belongings away in our very own pillowcases.
*****
joeh,
Maybe you could use that little ditty on your answering machine. But beware of any visitors who invite themselves up to use your bathroom, then start yelling "Tippy-toe! Tippy-toe," or singing, "Lemon tree, very pretty..."
*****
Sioux,
Thank goodness you were not wearing your new suede jacket with the pink-and-white striped lining! You should have just grabbed an umbrella from the metal can in the coffee shop. I hear those are free.
*****
Linda,
I can see you making the rounds at night in your hardhat, shining your olive-drab flashlight. "Who goes there?" Yes. You are now Head of Security Detail. Fortunately, the scariest thing in your house is already in the bed.
*****
Stephen,
I could be perfectly content if each day was not an adventure. But Even Steven has other plans for me.