Val is a Creature of Habit

I have been home alone all day. Trapped! Unable to leave. With only my air conditioned house, dark basement lair, laptop, desktop, low-speed internet, DISH network, big-screen TV, and two recliners to keep me company. Woe is me. The Pony went to spend the night with his grandma. Hick took my T-Hoe for an inspection. And here I sat. Not even a trip to town to interact with humanity.

As with every evening, I ascended from my lair to await Hick's arrival. Most days he's home around 4:40 p.m. I find out what he wants me to warm in the oven or heat up in the microwave. Then we go our separate ways. Today he did not arrive. I waited. Watched Jeopardy. Watched a Seinfeld rerun (The Hamptons, with the breathtaking baby, the stolen lobsters, and shrinkage--a classic). I finally called Hick. Funny how he did not let me know he would be late. An hour wasted. Dead time.

Hick said he had something come up at work. It never entered his mind to call and let me know he would be late, even though he left at the time he normally gets home. "What does it matter? You have your little buddy back." Um. No. He was well aware that The Pony went to Grandma's. "What...he didn't leave until after 1:00, did he? So you've only been here a couple of hours."

"No. He left at 11:00. I didn't have my car. I've been waiting to make your supper. And now Genius has called, and said he's coming by tonight to pick up his new monitor that got shipped here yesterday. He's not staying. Just picking it up. So that's going to take up more time out of my schedule."

"Schedule?" Hick laughed. LAUGHED! "You want us to do things at certain times to fit your plans."

"Um. YES! That's what a SCHEDULE is!"

"Things will happen when they happen. You don't need a schedule."

Thus, the problem. Hick has always been like that. Before we were married, he would walk across the townhouse parking lot to knock on my door and ask me to go for a ride. Sure. I figured I had time for a Saturday ride. Leave at 11:00, back around 1:00 or 2:00. Perhaps stop for lunch. Nope. Not on a Hick ride. He never said where we were going, or when we'd be back. If I didn't know him already, I would have suspected he was some ne'er-do-well, driving me deep into the back woods, never to be seen again. After one of his six-hour rides, I was always dehydrated and famished.

When his boys came for the weekend, they, too, wondered when they would get their next meal. I even took it upon myself to fill Hick in on his time management problem. "Those boys like the eggs and hot dogs with garlic powder that you make them for breakfast. But they tend to get hungry before 6:00 p.m. You might want to think about giving them lunch in between. Or a snack."

"They're fine. They're kids. They know they're going to eat sometime."

Yeah. Not one for schedules, that Hick. I don't think he understands the concept.