TPTB and Manipulation

According to Google, my ad account doesn’t exist any more because of an unapproved application. Maybe you’re not supposed to say “DON’T click on this ad.” Just in case, I removed the post about You Know Who that I don’t like and don’t want to support. There was supposed to be an email sent with information about the unapproved application, but I didn’t get it. I’m checking and we’ll see what The Powers That Be have to say.

Hubby has decided to go into the dirt business. He has a rather large mound of dirt in the back 40 from when he and MFS dug the pond/lake. He’s been talking about this and talking about this and he wants to buy this and he wants to buy that. The buying involves a dump truck, something else for smaller loads, and an aerator or some such that fluffs the dirt up (I guess even dirt wants to look nice). They are all rather expensive, so I’ve just been nodding my head and saying “Sure, Dear. Whatever you want.” Kind of like I did when he wanted to get started on building the house.

He calls up this morning and says he’s sold several loads of dirt. Weeeelllllllllll, it’s going to be a tad difficult to deliver, seeing as how we don’t have the dump truck yet. So guess what he’s looking for?

Do you see what happened here? I do, although it’s taken me 20 years to figure it out. But I’ve got his number now.

When we moved back up here, we bought a 160-acre farm. Even before we got married, we talked about having a farm—with horses. When you live on a farm, of course you have to have a farm truck. And a tractor. And a baler, to bale up the hay that you sowed and cut with that other machine that cuts and crunches it up. And you have to rake hay, did you know that? And that takes a special machine, I think it’s called a … rake. With all that hay, you need something to eat it, and you can buy a lot more cows than horses for the same amount of money. Of course, when you buy cows, you have to give them all kinds of shots, and if they get pinkeye, they need antibiotics. The way to do all that is to build a pen (with supplies that you had to buy) in 24 hours, and bring them down the chute that leads to the headgate (that you had to buy) to hold their head while you administer whatever it is you have to administer (that you had to buy) with the special equipment (that you had to buy). Have you seen the size of needle and syringes they use on cows? And of course the vet had to come out (and you had to pay him) because you’ve never given a subconjuncitival injection before.

Talk about holy cow! I could go on and on with the expenses, but I think you get the picture. And it all just kind of happened. One of those deals that once you get started, you have to keep going.

Which is exactly what happened with the house. You see, we bought the land years ago. We wanted something smaller (land-wise) and closer to civilization (read: Wal-Mart). In the midst of building a driveway and digging a lake and having house plans drawn and pouring footings, Hubby gets deployed. Twice. He comes back and wants to build the dream house, the huge one that was designed when the kids were still going to be around for a while.

The next thing I know, we’re signing a contract with his buddy to be our builder, taking out a loan, and ordering materials. For the huge house that was designed when the kids were still going to be around for a while. The kids that have magically gotten older, and one is even off to college now.

I may have done some things differently, but I wouldn’t change living on the farm or the house we’re going to move into one of these days. However, I do believe I’m catching on to how all this evolves, and his little system isn’t going to work anymore. No more pacifying him, no more telling him what he wants to hear just to make him feel like he’s actually going to get what he wants.

I’m still waiting for my horses.

In the meantime, would any of you happen to know where he can get a good, used, dirt-cheap (pun intended) dump truck?

Flo