Countin' Sheep and Killin' Creeps

There was a slight malfunction with my evening meal. I hear all of
you hollerin' "Hey, Hillbilly Mom! What's for supper?" Well, that
depends on who you are. If you are my children, who will only eat
a narrow selection of foods, you enjoyed a ZooPals plate of fish
sticks, ketchup, and buttered bread, washed down with Capri Sun,
the grape flavor. Ketchup is a vegetable, isn't it? That's what it
counts as on the school menu. If you are my husband, you choked
down a leftover grilled hamburger from Monday night. I doubt he
even remembers what he ate. It was his last supper. He's going to
be put to sleep tonight. More on that later...let's get back to ME!

My supper was a salad with hearts of Romaine lettuce, sweet
banana peppers, part-skim shredded mozzarella cheese, baked
chicken tenders, cherry tomatoes picked off the stem from a net
bag purchased at Wal*Mart, Save-A-Lot ranch dressing,
sunflower seeds, and garlic-and-butter croutons. During the
second bite, I chomped on something HARD. Like when Mr. S
gets the stem in his round section of the school lunch tray filled
with green beans and onions. And STEM. I thought it was a
tomato stem, though I cut up those little thingies, and didn't know
how a stem could jump into my salad.

I pulled it out of my mouth. It was black. And shiny. WTF? I laid
it down and poked at the salad with my fork. My fork with a black
plastic tine missing. Mystery solved. I dug in again. Again with the
hard thingy. Another tine down. Lucky for me, I had a white plastic
fork just lying around. Don't you? It's hillbilly silverware.

Now for the saga of HH. I told the kids this morning that their
father wouldn't be home tonight. He was going to the hospital to
be put to sleep. #2 son wouldn't go for it. #1 just nodded. Perhaps
he was not really listening to me. I get that feeling a lot. Sometimes
I think that I need help with my child-rearing skills. Other times I
just tell the boys that I'm giving them away to a poor family. One
with no computers or GameBoys. Oh. I forgot. The poor families
have more of that kind of stuff than we do.

HH really is going to the hospital for old worn-out husbands, to be
put to sleep. You didn't think I would try something like that here
at home home, did you? I'm pretty sure there are laws about that
type of thing here in Missouri. Which reminds me...I saw the local
prison on the news this morning. It seems there has been a lawsuit
of some type alleging cruel & unusual punishment because the state
doesn't provide a licensed anesthesiologist to attend the convicted
felons who are being put to death by lethal injection. Who knew?
You can't be cruel when you are legally killing someone! I wonder
if the victims could sue because the felon was not a licensed
anesthesiologist at the time he murdered them. Oh! That's right.
They can't. BECAUSE THEY ARE FREAKIN' DEAD! Jeez!
And you know, they use an alcohol wipe and take all cleanliness
precautions when they put in that line for the lethal injection,
because HEY, they don't want that felon to get an infection
WHEN HE IS A CORPSE IN ABOUT 7-11 MINUTES!

Anyhoo, back to HH. His doctor thinks he has sleep apnea, so he
is going to a sleep center tonight so they can watch him or hook him
up to electrodes or do whatever it is they do. HH, not the doctor.
I don't think the doctor will accompany him and lie next to him so
HH can poke the doctor's foot with his Athlete's Foot foot every
10 minutes, and breathe his hot breath on the doctor's neck while
snoring all freakin' night--except the one or two minutes every so
often that he stops breathing. Yeah. I could tell the doctor HH has
sleep apnea. But I wouldn't pay that big ol' insurance fee.

That will conclude the State of the Mansion Address for tonight.