The Problems of Hillbilly Mom

THE HORROR!

The horror that was my morning and noon and just after. You might have read that Redneck Diva did her back-to-school shopping already. And she made a mention of NO SALES TAX WEEKEND. Hmpf! Not around here, girly! Oh, it's that weekend all right...but our county is not participating. Our county, which contains TWO Devil's Playgrounds. We are supposed to get the STATE tax break of 4.225 percent, but the local taxes are still in effect. I refuse to drive 30 miles in two directions to other counties containing other playgrounds. I call foul! How DARE they not participate! I demand my $9.83 in savings, by cracky! I spend a lot on school supplies!

I knew not to go on Saturday. I tried that one time. I also went once at midnight. It was kind of fun. My mom went with me, and we each filled a cart for a specific Hillbilly son. Now #1 son has no list. I figured I could shop in relative peace on a Sunday morning, after those hardworking employees of The Devil's Playground re-stocked. NO. Incorrect. Didn't happen.

First problem was no supplies list for my 4th grade son. Oh, there was the giant cardboard display with the name of our school, but no list. In fact, I went through EVERY school, to see if one had been misplaced. Nope. So I just went to buy the clothing. Second problem. Our county is populated by a multiltude of size 8 boys who wear size 3 shoes. There was not a shoe to be found unless you wanted churchy shoes, or sandals. There was only ONE pair of size 8 shorts. They were camouflage. My boy is not as into camouflage as Redneck Diva's daughter. It is doubtful he will wear them. They are cute, though. Camo camouflage shorts. But listen to this...they were priced at $9.87...and they rang up for $5.00. WooHoo! I got some of my tax savings on that purchase. If I tell him that he wears those shorts or his underwear, I think he'll wear the shorts.

Third problem. There were only 4 cashiers. FOUR cashiers. For the whole Playground. I waited in line 15 minutes. Sweat was dripping from the end of my nose. It was too hot in the Playground. HH's says it's supposed to be really hot today. In fact, he said tonight is going to be the hottest part of the day. Go figure. We're supposed to have a heat index of 105. So I finally checked out, and on the way to the LSUV, I glanced back at that school list thingy, and it looked like there was a list in our school slot. I took the stuff out and came back in. I'd planned to do it anyway, for the food shopping. I went back into the non-food end, and there it was: ONE list for my son's supplies. I snatched it up like a 9th grade boy grabs a dropped Reese's Piece off a classroom floor.

Fourth problem. The Devil does not believe in pink erasers or pronged pocket folders. I got everything on that stinkin' list except those two items. Can of compressed air? No problem. Erasers and folders? Not at the Playgound, by cracky! Later, at home, we found some folders and a blue eraser that smells of blueberries. It will have to do.

Fifth problem. HH was on the front porch when I got home. Ha ha! He had to carry things in. He usually waits until 5 minutes after I get home to appear and ask, "Got everything?" Oh, but he did not carry in 'everything'. He said, "Well, I left those clothes and school things in the car." Duh! Our garage gets up to around 115 degrees, because we HAVE to close the doors, according to HH, because the dogs will go in there an chew things. So you already know that there is more junk than cars in our garage. And I did not want the can of compressed air to languish in that climate for long. I'm funny about that stuff. So I had to nag HH into bringing in all the bags.

Sixth problem. HH tried to burn down the Mansion while I was gone. No, he wasn't doing the yardwork. He was trying to help out, because I broke the news to him that I did not feel like cleaning because I can't do it all alone. I pointed out that all I'd ever expected him to do was clean the basement NASCAR bathroom, which he had volunteered to do way back in the day when he hung 1057 collector Hot Wheel cars on the walls of it. And HH said, "Well, I never use it..." Oh. Very bad response. Men, take note. What if I only cleaned up the things I used? What then, huh? HH knew the minute those words were out his lips that he had fumbled. He spouted and fumed a bit to throw me off the track, but we both knew how ridiculous his statement was. So he went into the kitchen and cleaned up the pile of junk mail he was saving for The Veteran since last year. Oh, he left the Chef Boy-Ar-Dee box pizza on the table, and the lonely roll of paper towels that he had ripped one out of and didn't put away the rest. But his intentions were good.

Now, to get back to the burning of the Mansion...When I returned from my trip to The Devil's Playground, HH had candles burning. A plethora of candles. No two with the same scent. But that's beside the point. It was 95 freakin' degrees. Why do we want candles burning? Anybody? Anybody? The Mansion looked like Carrie White's house, after Carrie and Momma White had that little discussion about 'dirtypillows'. I thought HH was going to need supplementary oxygen after blowing them out.

Seventh problem. I have grown tired of this post. The End.