Friday, September 13, 2013

Hick Needs To Cease and Desist With the Spoilage of My Broth

This old dog wants to be left alone to perform her well-mastered tricks. The routine does not need updating. Val is not interested in building a better mousetrap, or reinventing the wheel. In fact, if Val had her druthers, ten million monkeys would be enticed to roll ten million lumpy old stone-age wheels across ten million mouse paths, because the sun even shines on a flat mouse some days.

I was without my trusty supermarket sweeper, The Pony, this evening. Because we will be busy partying it up with my septuagenarian aunt on Sunday, I was forced to do my shopping alone. THE HORROR!

When I returned home, Hick graced me with his presence. Genius, who made a big show of carrying in groceries one time in front of his houseguest, puts Hick to shame. Hick usually disappears when the restocking wagon rolls into the garage. Today, he came to help. It was obvious that Hick was a novice.

He carried bags from the back of T-Hoe through the garage, up the steps, into the kitchen. Silly Hick. Bags go from T-Hoe to side porch. Once they are all on the side porch, they are carried in. This requires only one trip up the steps, not a plethora. When The Pony assists, he keeps bags going into the house as I am fetching them from the garage.

Imagine my surprise to find what Hick had done with the bananas. They were in a bag all alone. The Pony would have put them on the counter by the sink, just inside the kitchen door. That's where Hick keeps them. His breakfast staging area, easy to grab on his way out the door for work. But no. Hick carried them all the way around the counter, past the cutting block, to set them on the stove top.

But that's not his biggest transgression. Hick was in the kitchen with his bags. I put more on the side porch, and went back for the rest. That's when I heard it: "JUNO! STAY OUT OF THAT!"

Oh no he didn't! Hick berated my sweet, sweet dog Juno! My sweet silky soulmate who has never, EVER, gotten into the groceries. She might have stepped on the edge of a bag once, trying to get closer to me for petting. But she has NEVER nosed into our foodstuffs. Just the sound of crinkling plastic when her foot hit it made her shy away. And with Juno and Hick on the other side of T-Hoe and the garage wall, Hick had to assert his King of the House power and act like he was saving the groceries from a pillager.

What he forgets is that I have done this for more than 20 years without his assistance. Old dogs do not suffer new tricks lightly. It's easier alone.

I appreciate the thought. Not the effort. Around here, there's only one correct way to carry in groceries. But you probably knew that already.


  1. I know exactly what you mean. I am the same way with folding laundry. Why can't they do the simplest things?

  2. Yes, life with men is never smooth sailing. We women have to allow them to play their little games so they feel like they rule the roost.

    Silly creatures...

  3. Maybe it's best if I keep my man mouth shut and don't say anything, except have a great weekend.

  4. Guys just pretend they don't get it so they won't be asked again. You just need to treat Hick like the rest of your juvenile male students. Don't let him put that one over on you.

  5. Linda,
    I suspect there's a vast conspiracy of sandbagging spouses who have organized to create a diversion of poor performances, lest we expect too much.

    But why must we endure the Poseidon Adventure over and over, like Groundhog Day? Can they not simply say, "I'll do it. But I'm going to do a crappy job, so you won't ask me again. A short bout of wrath is better than physical exertion for a lifetime."

    You are so astute in your obSIRvations! The first rule of flying under the radar is: Know when you are outnumbered and outmouthed. The second rule is: Whipping up a good pot roast can curry favor for future skirmishes.

    I knew I was onto something with that conspiracy theory! Hick has attempted many put-overs, and succeeded in few. Besmirching the honor of my sweet, sweet Juno was the last straw. Nobody puts Juno's head in a plastic bag, even figuratively.

  6. Leenie's right. My ex once ran out of excuses to get out of trimming shrubs. Ended up chopping one into little stumps with no greenery whatsoever. With a smirk on his face, he called me out to inspect. I told him it was perfect. At which point his back went out. He was too dumb to do a good job at playing dumb.

  7. Tammy,
    That stumpy shrub takes the conspiracy cake!

  8. THey do it wrong so they will not be asked to do it regularly ...... But, like you I prefer to do it myself. Moving here from Minnesota, I was accustomed to bagging my own groceries. I had a system. All the frozen and refrigerated items went into paper bags, while the rest were in plastic. Double paper bags. I would unload those first and then the plastic bags after I dealt with the cold stuff. Now I have insulated bags in my vehicle and have to do this as I load in the parking lot. I always find a lone cold item in an odd bag when I get home, despite the fact that I put them on the conveyer belt the way I want them bagged ......

  9. Kathy,
    Who knew they were so wily and crafty? Not this ol' Val!