For those of you clamoring, "What has Hick been buying lately at the Goodwill?"
According to Hick, that's a "Chicago gug 1.00 Santa nut cracker 2.00 milk bottle .50"
I must admit that I really like the Santa nutcracker. The jug, meh. It's probably not even old. Probably from somewhere like Cracker Barrel. The milk bottle? I'm neutral. Much like the pH of milk.
I should have known he was up to something Friday evening when he called to tell me he was running late.
"I'm sitting here at the stoplight, and some cars have water up to their wheel wells."
Huh. There is nowhere that would happen between his workplace and the homestead, unless he was in the middle of a town on the way home, rather than taking the highway ramp onto the other highway. Of course I called him on it.
"Where ARE you?"
"At the stoplight in <REDACTED>. I may never get through here. The creek by Dairy Queen is already way up in the road. It's pouring. We've had several tornado warnings all day."
"Oh. So you must have stopped by Goodwill."
Leave it to Hick to make a detour and go by Goodwill when there is a tornado on the way. Of course, who am I to talk, not even knowing about the weather, having been ensconced in my dark basement lair since noon. Not that it mattered. The TV would have gone off due to DISH interruption from the rain. I didn't even think about the weather until my internet went down. Anyhoo...
Here's one he forgot to send me, but he showed me in person, even turning the crank.
It's a grinder. I took a look at it. Turned the crank. Looked inside to see how it worked. And asked, "Will this really grind things?"
"Be careful! You'll cut your finger if you stick it in there!" Said Hick to Val, who only last week sliced her finger while chopping an onion with a common kitchen knife, while he was nowhere around to apply a tourniquet.
Yes, every week I have a plethora of new purchases to show from Hick. I don't begrudge him his treats. They're cheaper than that $76.37 pool cover he bought without mentioning it to me or the checkbook register. I swear, he was only in that pool a double handful of times this year. But he likes a pool. So I'm not begrudging him that, either. I know we're going to spend a fortune on a pool we hardly use, and Hick is going to buy a ton of junk and build sheds for each classification.
It's not like when Jennifer Connelly was surprised at the cluttered shed she found in A Beautiful Mind. I'm not surprised at all. I've seen the evidence all along. Piecemeal. A movie of Hick's life would be titled "A Beautiful Find." Or "A Lootiful Mind."
I'm still waiting on something as memorable as Thomas Jefferson on a Boot Taking a Crap.