Christening the SS Free Hot Tub
The free hot tub is now open for the season. No word on the
black wad of hair. It has not been mentioned. My Hillbilly
Husband is not hanging his head in shame for trying to put
this beauty in the garage. He knows no shame. I think he's
showing off his watch. Doesn't everybody wear a watch in
their free hot tub?
Drink it all in. Not the free hot tub water, silly. The ambience.
That's a concrete basement wall in the background. The life
preserver was not put there for the hot tub. It has been hanging
there since last summer, for the blue plastic Wal*Mart pool.
We don't know how to let go here at the mansion. Gotta save
that two-dollar floaty for next season. It's hanging on the rack
for the garden hose. I haven't seen the hose in a while. I'm
sure it was used to fill up the free hot tub. That's a giant electric
cord snaking its way down from the porch. It plugs in right
by the dog dish. There's a pool skimmer leaning against the
basement wall. I suppose that's in case the black wad of hair
rears its ugly head.
The boys love the free hot tub. #2 son thinks it is a swimming
pool, and gets chastised every two minutes for dogpaddling
from one corner to another. #1 has developed a love affair
with free stuff, and brags about the hot tub incessantly. Like
father, like son.
HH did admit that it's much nicer to look down in the woods
than at the garage walls. HooRah! A victory for me!
I have other issues with HH today. There is the matter of the
toilet paper roll that was down to three squares. I couldn't
have spared a square for anybody. And after I used the three
squares, I did not replace the roll, to see if HH would get the
hint. You might as well not try to play any fancy-shmancy
psychological games around the mansion, because all it gets
you is no toilet paper. I put a roll on the side of the big ol'
bathtub and waited, but that, too, proved fruitless. Of course
I replaced it myself. Handbasket, people. It is the decline of
civilization as we know it.
Other HH issues...I bought a small box of Bounce fabric
softener sheets at Country Mart about a month ago, because
we were out. Oh, how it pains me to buy an item like this at
the grocery store! It's highway robbery, I tell you! AND I
had to buy a brand name! So this morning, just before the
Porter Wagoner Show came on RFDTV, I put in a load of
boys' jeans and noticed a box of the Wal*Mart brand fabric
softener sheets under my Bounce box. I used the last Bounce,
and threw the box in the trash. Or should I say I threw it ON
the trash, since HH does not perform his duty of trash man
in the laundry room. In fact, there are 3 large economy boxes
emptied of Tide stacked on top of the wastebasket. Do you
know how long it takes to empty three boxes of Tide? Let's
just say our Leaning Tower of Tide has been there since last
summer. I refuse to take it out. I give in and take out the
kitchen trash, and the bathroom trash, but I must draw the
line somewhere. Anyhoo, I mentally made a note that I did
not need to buy fabric softener sheets when I went to
Wal*Mart after Porter was over.
When I returned from Wal*Mart, I put my second load in
the dryer and reached for the fabric softener sheet. THE
BOX WAS EMPTY!!! Who in his right mind puts an empty
box under the box we are using? HH denies it. He says he
hasn't done laundry in a while. That's a whole 'nother story.
HH does his own because he got pissed at me right after
we got married, because I had the nerve to ask him to put
his dirty clothes in the hamper instead of stepping out of them
and leaving them on the floor. I know I didn't put an empty
box on the shelf. I give you Exhibit A: the toilet paper roll.
And Exhibit B: the Leaning Tower of Tide. You be the judge.
Oh, and the piece de resistance...I moved some stuff on the
bottom shelf of the fridge to make room for the groceries.
To be specific, I thought I was moving a cardboard carton
of those little 6-pack yogurts. But no! I was only moving the
cardboard carton of one cup of yogurt. I know HH is to
blame. I will spring that on him afterwhile. I guess he has
separation issues. He can not part with anything. Or else
he has some cardboard fetish of which I am happily unaware.
I know these tales only whet your appetite all the more for a
visit to the mansion. Hairwads, piles of refuse, and no toilet
paper! I might start my own theme park.