It’s been downright cold everywhere. Freezing in fact. Even here in South Mississippi. I have a loosely arranged schedule, but a schedule it is. Anything that disrupts it means I lose writing time. And Wednesday was special indeed.
We get up early, me earlier because I have control of the coffee pot. How that’s supposed to fair and equitable exchange for hubby having control of the penis extension–excuse me, remote control–I have no idea. But he gets coffee in bed in the mornings out of the deal. However, revenge can oft be sweet. Especially in the form of a 40 pound puppy who believes he’s a cute little Pomeranian. He just loves to wake daddy up when I carry in the cups of coffee. The bed bounces, pillows fly, covers are shaken and wrestled off the bed, paws plant in stomachs with loud wuff sounds (hubby not the puppy), and puppy kisses are the currency of the day. I can guarantee hubby goes from asleep to fully awake in two point three seconds!
But karma for my meanness came full circle. About 6:30 Wednesday morning after I’d fed the dogs, I went out to feed and water the horse. I dump her water container every day and refill it fresh. Thank heavens this time I didn’t dump first! For years I’ve pleaded with hubby to bring a ditch witch home and run underground water lines to several areas of the yard. He shrugs and says it’s only a couple days out of the year it’s a problem. (Says the man who never has to lug water down 200 feet of driveway to water newly planted climbing roses in ninety-five degree weather!) Anyway, I turned the water on for the hose to water the horse and peacocks.
I waited expectantly. Nuthin’. Frozen hose. I had a new scene fermenting in my head and really wanted to write, but couldn’t do it until this chore was done. So I grabbed the hose and shook it. Didn’t help. I turned the water off and on trying to flush the ice out pneumatically. I just flexed my wrist. Got mad and jumped up and down on it the entire length from the faucet to the horse trough. I mean did a River Dance of epic proportions. Ended up sweaty and out of breath. Still no water. Wound up dragging it out of the shadows and leaving it stretched across the yard. Hey, the hose is black. Black holds heat. The sun did the rest. Finally. Yeah, right. At 10:30!
So when Thursday rolled around I saw multiple opportunities. First, to avoid further frozen hose frustrations by letting hubby water the horse. I’d just piddle around in the house and wait for him to do it. Second, if he couldn’t get the water to come out the hose it would also promote my mad ditch witch scheme.
He watered the horse. I kept hearing the faucet at the kitchen sink, so I know he made a number of trips from sink to fence line. And I was gleeful. With every trudging step he made I had visions of multiple, strategically located spigots.
Karma again. Never celebrate someone’s extra work. Hubby made an errand run, and I wanted hot water for something I was doing. Zipped into the kitchen, swung the tap to hot and left to do something else while it warmed. Some really strange water sounds had me returning. I came in to see what was an empty sink almost overflowing! Tripped over the dog and both cats but got to it in time. Used a long-handled spoon to poke around in the drain hole.
Came up with glob after glob of frost damaged grass strands.
Called hubby to fuss about it. His response? “I did set the bucket down on the way back a few times. Was playing with the dogs each trip to wear them out so they wouldn’t bother you while you write. Sorry, baby, guess it came off the bottom of the bucket when I filled it at the sink.”
I can guarantee you I’ll be figuring out how to water the horse in the morning myself. There’s a small propane cylinder I have tentative plans for in the laundry room. Just hope karma has left the building. If I set myself on fire, I really want hubby to come and put me out.