The Hmmm Factor

It goes sometimes like this.

He looks out the window as I read the weather forecast. He blinks and then says, “Hmmm.” I read that we may get measurable snow and he says, “Hmmm.” And a very far away look comes to his eyes. I know that look.

I remind him that the water tank heaters need to be plugged in so the animals will have temperate water to drink. You guessed it, that far away Hmmm look.

We go out to do chores and he stops in mid stride. “I need hay.” He turns and go back inside the house. A bit later he comes back out and stares thoughtfully around before blinking and then feeding the riding mules.

“Are you going to get hay?”

“No. Well, maybe later. Gary is sort of busy getting in corn. Maybe late this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“Small bales?” I notice we need some more. I hid my irritation at the fact that he always waits until the last moment on these things.

“No. I didn’t have time to call Eddie.” [He sells us our small bales.] We finish chores, fix a short in the fence and then he stands in the driveway with the electric cord for the big stock tank.

“I have to go to town,” he explains. “I can’t use the plow on the new[er] skid steer unless I change couplings.”

Living with my husband is sometimes like living with the wind. Sometimes it blows hard, sometimes soft. It never seems to know which direction it wants to go in.

He stands on the porch and looks out. I wait. I have things I want to do today. I need to go return the Kindle to his mom after rebooting it and fixing the games she likes to play. I want to try and chop up some venison, I have some craft things to do, I need to change the SD card on the trail cam. I know…I know exactly how I want my day to work out.

Yet I wait on the Hmmm Factor. Because if I don’t and charge ahead with what needs to be done, the Hmmm Factor turns into an Angry Frustated Factor. And then nothing gets done. I sometimes wonder if my adult husband not only has mental health issues with PTSD but perhaps he has ADD too. He sometimes gets frozen and overwhelmed and can’t organize himself.

I’ve learned to work around his oddities. And I suppose I am no less odd either.

I watch him take the car and head to town.

Hmmm. I wonder what time I will get to run my errands. I’m supposed to sit in the house and wait on a maybe phone call from the guy combining his corn.




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