A Wing And A Prayer, The Sequel

Actually, this is a prequel. What completely slipped my mind when I tried to think up something interesting yesterday was one little drama of the HH variety. He is such a drama queen, what with his brain tumors that turn out to be ear infections, and his throat closing up to kill him that turns out to be a cold (both diagnosed at the ER, mind you), and his boss's neighbor, the famous author Betty, who turned out to be Katherine Hepburn, and the neighbor coming to shoot him, and the other neighbors actually peppering his Shanty roof with buckshot...Well, you can see how another HH mini-drama-in-real-life might slip my mind.

HH went to the BARn yesterday to spray some insulation. It's a red tin barn, regular barn shape, with a white roof. The bottom floor is concrete, where HH has a workbench and tinkers with his numerous junky cars and lawnmowers. The loft has been made into a BAR with a TV and some collector stuff and a bed. No running water, though. The top has that typical barn shape. HH has decided that since he plans to go over there a lot this winter (which he always has, and I ain't complainin', except that he leaves the heat and lights on sometimes and the separate electric bill tells on him) he should spray some insulation on the inside and outside of the tin roof.

HH called his number one son and The Veteran to come help him on Saturday. My own #1 son went to assist with childcare duties. Apparently, they didn't quite finish the job. HH went over there Sunday to putter around. I stayed in the Mansion in my sickchair. The #1 son went to his grandma's house after church, and The Pony was in the basement playing computer games. Around about 2:30, HH came back to the house. It had been quite stormy all morning, what with Ike's winds blowing in for a visit. HH sat down on the couch and commenced his tale of woe.

"I was up on the BARn roof, and my ladder blew down. I heard it go, and I knew I was in trouble. The Pony isn't big enough to lift the ladder. I knew you were sick, and would pitch a fit. So I called my buddy, Buddy, and he came down on the 4-wheeler and set it up for me. I don't know what I would have done if Buddy wasn't home. Other Neighbor was blading the road, and I figured I could holler at him. Or I could have called you to look up the number of Bowling Neighbors."

First of all, HH knows me like a book. He can read me like the back of his hand. That's what my old teaching buddy used to say. But she thought she was right. Thank the Gummi Mary, she had never heard that lipstick/pig comment. Anyhoo...I doubt that the dude blading the road on his tractor would have helped. He likely would have waved and thought to himself, "There's that wacky HH sitting up on his barn roof again."

Still, HH should have called me. Because I would have been madder than a wet hen if I had to go looking for him when he didn't come home for supper.

My alternate title was: Up A Roof Without A Ladder. But that kind of took away the suspense.