Here is the post my husband wants me to write.
I, for the record, do not want to.
You will then know how hillbilly we are.
It all started with a phone conversation.
I texted my husband to let him know I would be taking the boys into the huge cement city (that's what we call it) to load up on groceries. We have reached that point where we are out of everything. My boys are growing by leaps and bounds and leaps some more, this means they never stop eating.
I wasn't sure if we could get into Costco and shop for a trial run (sounds like we can't) and so I am headed to Sam's Club, where we do have a membership because they sell bags for our farm stand and that's when my husband says, "Make sure S1 looks for containers for his worms."
Worms. Our entrepreneurial S1 has been collecting night crawlers at, well, night. He has them stored in an old camper tub behind his shop. He did this last year and did quite well. He started with the warm weather we had last month and has quite a few hundred. He collects them in coffee cans and then shows them to me as I am lying in bed. I then scream and he then laughs and takes them to the tub he keeps them in.
So THEN my husband says, "Yah, then we will move the fridge onto the porch."
"Wait, what?" I asked, nearly choking on my coffee.
"Yah", he says, "Didn't I tell you? We are going to move that fridge from the shed to the front porch so you can just sell the worms from the house."
My dear blog readers...that means a fridge, on my porch, along with my bunnies living there. And while I have worked hard to keep the view from the window I look out of most often flowery and cute, I see that ending quickly. Cuteness will be replaced with hillbilly.
The fridge will have a bright orange extension cord going from porch and into the window to keep it running.
"Great," I say, "that means I will go from night crawler season to asparagus season to strawberry season with a fridge on my porch."
"You'll clean it, of course but, I know, it's going to work great."
I just drank more coffee and we moved onto the subject that DirecTv has dropped my beloved Fox 17 from its line up so we can't watch anything on Fox now.
"You can in the bathroom," my husband suggested.
Forever ago, my husband lamented the fact that we did not have a tv in the bathroom and how cool it would be. Yes, bathROOM. We have one bathroom. He lamented so much that I put a tv in the bathroom, we hooked up the box so it could get just local channels and my husband rejoiced.
I won wife of the day for that one.
It is rather handy to have the news on in the morning as you get ready to head out, I will admit.
But it's not like I super broadcast the fact that it's there, you know? It just seems wrong somehow to have a tv in your bathroom.
My husband wants me to call DirecTv and get some awesome deal hammered out for us since they dropped our station. I am more the "I'll be super sweet and blog about it" person and my husband is the "you WILL work out a deal with us RIGHT NOW" sort of guy.
"You know what you should do?' (I inwardly braced myself as he continued.) "You should set up a bunch of chairs in the bathroom and get a picture of you all watching Fox 17 in the bathroom. That would be a great blog post!"
"Uh, no," I said.
"Oh come on!" he laughed, but was very serious, "It'd be great!"
"Because, husband," I explained, "It's bad enough that soon I will be the hillbilly house with a fridge on my porch. A fridge with worms! And then we'll have a picture of us all in the bathroom...."
"One of them could use the toilet as a chair!" he interrupted.
"Yah, might as well put up the picture of all the boys shooting their guns off the porch too," I added.
"We could be the town's welcoming committee then!" he laughed.
Oh. We so could.
This is why people think we should have our own reality show, I swear.
Anyhow, here is the post that my husband wanted me to write (minus any bathroom pictures) because no doubt this will all happen. Heck, the boys target practicing off the porch on a rainy day already has.
I am just holding my shaking head in my hands as I finish this. Can NOT believe I will push publish.
What hillbillies we really are.
Well, we are off to Sam's Club to drop a small fortune to keep the boys fed so they can continue to hunt worms that I'll sell from the front porch.
More spring break stories later.....