Having The Pony back home is going to take some adjusting. I'm not talking about his hour showers at the same time I usually take mine. I shouldn't have to call dibs on the hot water. Nor about FRIG II's diminishing supply of ice. From which I am used to filling THREE bubba cups per day. At least The Pony actually drinks the cold water cooled by the ice, from an insulated metal cup, and doesn't let it sit in a red Solo cup and melt, then fill another one, as Genius is wont to do.
No, what I'm talking about today is TV TIME! It's not like I watch a lot of TV, but in the mornings (those hours between 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m.) I switch from cable newses (gotta check the stock ticker to see how much I'm losing), to reruns of The Middle or Malcolm in the Middle, to select movies of interest. And sometimes Carnival Eats.
The Pony likes cartoons such as American Dad. Or marathons of The Simpsons. Or any cooking show. Thing is, he always has in earphones, and keeps his eyes on his laptop. So I don't see any need to change my viewing habits for him.
Once I hoist my ample rumpus out of the La-Z-Boy to take a shower before my town trip, it's a free-for-all. The Pony moves to the La-Z-Boy with his metal ice water, and grabs the remote. Not a big deal, since I'm moving on. But something that happened Thursday IS a big deal.
I was dressed for town, and sat down for a minute on the short couch, to see if The Pony wanted some lunch from Country Mart's deli. As we were chatting in front of Bart and Lisa, I glanced sideways at The Pony, and saw the most horrific thing since Hick used to walk down the basement stairs on the way out the basement door to Poolio in his birthday suit!
The Pony was sitting sideways, with his legs folded up to his left side. He'd had the remote perched on the left arm of the La-Z-Boy. It had slid off (or was purposefully moved) and now
THE REMOTE CONTROL WAS GRASPED BY THE PONY'S FEET!!!
Regular readers might recall that Val abhors feet. Can't stand 'em! They make her ill. The only good foot is a baby's foot. The best part of the baby, so tiny and cute. Then they become stinky adolescent feet, corny misshapen adult feet, and yellow-toenailed crusty geezer feet. I have to turn my head when feet come on TV. Don't get me started on that callus shaver infomercial from years back. Nor the If Toes Were Fingers commercial for Kerasol. [CAUTION: don't click if you abhor feet!]
"YEEEEEE! Please tell me that the remote is NOT in your feet!"
"It is laying on top of my foot, propped up ever so gently by the index toe of my other foot."
"Please! Get it off your feet! Put the remote back on the table!
"It's fine where it is.
"NO NO NO! What if Dad picks it up, and fiddles around, and taps it on his lip?"
"He'll never know."
"But YOU will! And I will!"
"I am touching something else with my toes now. Look."
"NO!"
"Come on..."
"Is it something of mine?"
"No."
"Because my stomach is churning at the thought and the previous sight."
"LOOK!"
The Pony was holding his PHONE between his toes, extending his foot off the La-Z-Boy.
"Do you want me to hand you the remote?"
"NO! For the love of all that is NOT Not-Heavenly, please wipe it off. Now. Do it! Get something to disinfect it! I can never watch TV up here again!"
"Do you want me to hold something else? The house phone? Or what about your vibrator?"
[Let the record show that my "vibrator" is shaped like a bug with four rounded feet, bought at Walmart to sooth my sinus headaches, and that The Pony takes great delight in mentioning it. At least we're not in the same classroom any more.]
"NO! I put it on my face! For my sinuses! It would be like putting your feet on my face! I can't believe you won't wipe off the remote!"
"I can't. I'm laughing so hard that I'm weak!"
"It's not funny! It's terrifying and sickening!"
I laughed till I cried. I couldn't get up and hobble away. The Pony still clenched his own cell phone between his toes, which are as long as fingers.
Later that evening, we giggled when Hick picked up the remote.
Feet do not bother me as long as they are used for feet purposes, like standing up and not falling over.
ReplyDeleteI'd still prefer feet to do their jobs while covered, and not visible to my naked eye.
DeleteWhile I am envious of people who can pick up things with their toes, I'd prefer them not to pick up anything of mine. Did you know there are people with no arms that do everything with their feet? Feed themselves, paint pictures and so on. I used to buy Christmas Cards from a company that printed them from paintings done by "foot" painters.
ReplyDeleteI do recall seeing such people comb their hair, eat cereal, and brush their teeth while grasping implements with their toes. That was rather impressive, and did not repulse me.
DeleteSlightly off topic, but I was just reading about Jim Abbot, a Yankee pitcher and all-star who threw a no-hitter. He also was missing his left hand. When asked if there was anything he could not do he replied, "Fasten that left hand sleeve button."
DeleteI think I might have seen old TV clips of him. Like he held his glove in his armpit, then put it on after throwing. Stuff like that makes me feel like I'm a lazy two-armed slob!
DeleteSounds like you two are conspiring to get a foot up on Hick.
ReplyDeleteVal, beware of what else your boy has been touching with his eeewwww, toes. My daughter also has an aversion to feet.
Yes, we conspire. But I have to be careful, because sometimes The Pony is a turncoat, and sides with HICK against ME! Hopefully, it has nothing to do with FEET!
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