I am trapped! Trapped in the house with an impounded animal! Hick can't go roaming around the countryside due to the snowstorm! He COULD. And he WOULD. But nothing is open for him. Just Casey's and the grocery store and businesses he does not patronize. He made a quick sortie to a small auction on Sunday afternoon, but was only gone about 90 minutes.
Hick won't be taking a dip in Poolio. We have about 7 inches of snow on the ground.
We're getting some drifts of snow on the back deck out the kitchen door. Hick is not getting MY drift.
Hick has been pacing like a caged tiger. Pacing, from a seated position in his recliner in the living room. But you can tell that mentally, he's pacing. GROUCHING, too! The attitude emanates from him like Pepe Le Pew's stink fumes. Not even Gunsmoke reruns could keep him entertained.
"I don't know what I'm going to do. I could go over to the BARn, and turn up the heat, and work on my fishing lures."
"No. It's 3 degrees! The electric bill will be high enough without you RAISING the temperature of the BARn."
"I might get on the Gator and go down to the cabin and light a fire in the stove."
"That's not a good idea. What if you get stuck down there? Your phone won't work, and I can't come rescue you."
"I think I'll go down and clean stuff out from under the pool table. I heard you sigh! I should have known better! You always get like this! What's wrong with cleaning? Huh? What's wrong with cleaning. I want to play pool!"
"Nothing, if you didn't have this attitude. It's like your SUNDAY CLEANING ATTITUDE. You're grouchy and want to boss people around. Little HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and Little Veteran (Hick's second oldest son) were scared to death of you on Sundays."
"Fine. Never mind. I won't clean anything."
"That stuff has been under the pool table for 15 years. Why does it have to be cleaned up now? It's the boys' old toys. You can't take it up to your Storage Unit Store. You can't take it over to the Freight Container Garage. You can't put it in the trash because it looks like we're going ANOTHER week without trash pickup. So I don't know where you're going to clean it to. Besides, we've played pool on it all along. It's your stuff ON TOP of the pool table that keeps you from playing. All those old albums that your got at your buddy's estate sale. And the paper you used when you wrapped Christmas gifts, and the paper I used that you had The Pony carry down to put there, instead of in the storage tub. So I don't know what the sudden hurry is to do it today."
"Don't worry! I'm not going to clean anything!'
Sheesh! Hick went down to the basement, making sure to leave the TV volume as loud as his deaf ears need it, and without giving me the remote to change channels (which I always give him when I relinquish control of my daily hour of TV in the living room) or turn it down.
I don't know what he was doing down there, but he was back upstairs when I got out of the shower. Thank goodness I'd put the TV on the end of Mr. Mom, with Problem Child, and then Problem Child 2, to follow.
I made my escape to my lair around 3:30, after watching a bit of Problem Child with Hick the Grouch. His mood improved almost as much as when he used to rent the Ernest movies.