Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Hick Avoids the Lockup

Hick has more lives than a cat. He can be shot at twice in one week, wish to have a knife pulled on him by a crazy dude who puts tree limbs in the middle of the road, fall off a 10-foot ladder with no ill effects, stand in knee-deep water to turn off the electrical panel, and now...avoid the lockup due to roughing up Val.

Having Hick home two extra days a week is no picnic. He is underfoot. He makes me nervous. I can't concentrate. I try to avoid pushing his buttons (yeah, really!), in order to escape his wrath, which takes the form of hollering and throwing up his hands and slamming the door (could explain our bum doorknobs).

Anyhoo...Monday we had an appointment with our financial adviser to set up a portion of Hick's 401K for withdrawals. I made the appointment. I knew the time of the appointment. I told Hick, and we set a departure time.

As with any trip, long or short, Hick was fidgeting to leave a good 10 minutes before we had planned. All I had to do was step into my shoes, grab my purse, and go to the car. But we still had 10 minutes. No need to get there early. That's why it's called an APPOINTMENT. There's a designated time slot set aside for you.

Hick had already gone outside when I came out of the bathroom and turned off the TV.  But we still had 10 minutes. I'd rearranged my daily schedule for this outing, walking at noon instead of 4:00, and giving the dogs their evening snack, which they assume comes after the walk. They don't wear wristwatches, you know. However...by the time I was done walking, Jack had forsaken me to run over to the BARn and look for Hick. Juno got her share, but I saved Jack's for when I saw him. Which was the minute I opened up the kitchen door to go out to the garage and leave.

And there was HICK! Leaning against the rail on the back porch. He must have great confidence in his woodworking abilities, since he built the rail, and it's a 12-foot drop into the back yard. It was a bit unnerving, because I assumed he was sitting in the car fuming until I came out. But there was Jack, and his plate of cut-up hot dog was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I'm just going to give Jack his evening snack, and then we'll go."

I went back around the sink peninsula and grabbed the plate. Hick stood silently, watching, as I leaned over to dump the sliced hot dog on the porch for Jack. He has a tiny mouth, you know. Jack. Not Hick. And needs his food cut up. My Sweet, Sweet Juno tried to crowd in and steal some, but I gave her a single slice, and leaned down to pet her to keep her away.

I sensed that Hick was annoyed. Just the way he was leaning. Ready to go.

"Okay. He's done. Let me grab my purse."

I stood up from the petting, and turned to go in.

CLANG!

I rang my bell pretty good. Smacked my face on the metal dinner bell Hick has mounted on the wall beside the kitchen door.



It's really a John-Deere-green-colored tractor on that wall mount, but it's got a lot of gravel-road dust coating it. I'm not sure whose job description includes the cleaning of the outside gewgaws.


The decorative six-shooter is another Hick treasure entirely. Not attached. I have no issue with it. I didn't almost split my eye open on the fake gunbelt.

Of course it was Hick's fault! Not mine. I know that bell is there. It's been there a good long time. If Hick hadn't been there, making me all nervous, I wouldn't have been in a hurry and spun around so fast upon standing. Yep. Truly Hick's fault, and none of my own.

Of course Hick just stood there. Didn't offer to see if I needed my eyeball popped back in. Didn't check to see if there was a gash and spurting blood. Just stood there. Shaking his head.

"I'm probably going to get a black eye from this! It REALLY hurts!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Val. That bell has been hanging there for years."

"Good thing I don't need stitches. I know they'd question me about what happened after I drove myself to the emergency room. They might think you slugged me."

"You'll be fine."

So much for sympathy. And even WORSE...I didn't even get a bruise! Barely a tiny little pink raised line where the contact occurred.


Let the record show that we arrived three minutes early for our appointment, and had to wait 10 minutes for our guy to finish a phone call.

18 comments:

  1. Almost every time I forget something or break something it is Mrs. C's fault!

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    1. Of course! I wish they could stop making us do that!

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  2. Can I suggest make up Val? Remember that time SD dropped a trailer on my foot and it was my fault for standing exactly where he'd told me to stand? It really REALLY hurt and he didn't care. I didn't have a bruise either so I painted one on with make up. I still didn't get any sympathy from SD but I did get quite a lot on FB when I posted the photo.

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    1. How could I forget that? Hick must have made me do it!

      Sadly, I found it so difficult to take a picture of my eye while looking at the back of the phone (don't EVEN ask why I didn't set it to take the picture the other way), I don't think I could put on any makeup while looking at my eye. That, and the fact that I don't even have any makeup in the house...

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  3. Val--Some purplish eye shadow, along with some yellow, might make a nice fake bruise. Then take a picture. For later "proof" that he beats you.

    You never know when you'll need it.

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    1. I wonder if there's a Non-Glamor Shots place where I can go have them do that for me? It would be a handy thing to have on hand the next time he flat-out ignores the injury he caused me to incur.

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  4. I saw the warning label on the window in the door but I couldn't read the fine print. Something about " . . . watch out for the bell and the gun and the holster . . ."

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    1. And HICK PUT IT THERE! All fingers point to him as the cause of my wished-for-quite-obvious injury.

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  5. Does Hick think that having to wait ten minutes for the guy to finish his phone call is your fault, too?

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    1. I'm pretty sure. I blame HIM for the extra five minutes it took after THAT, when we sat down at the table and Hick asked about the old thermometer on a metal oval advertising radiator products that was leaned in the corner.

      Small talk about flea market finds is not necessary when withdrawing your life's savings.

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  6. Mrs. Chatterbox always insists we arrive at appointments at least fifteen minutes early, which just adds to the wait time.

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    1. The doctor's office my boys USED to go to DEMANDED that you arrive 15 minutes early, and if you didn't, they canceled your appointment and billed you anyway.

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  7. The door was left unlocked. I told my guy and he said it was my fault because I climbed into bed right after he did. Oh Val, I wish I could tell you it gets easier. Keep your distance...from that bell, yeah, that's what I meant.

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    1. I wish you could tell me it gets easier, too! Of course, Hick says it has nothing to do with him...that I am SET IN MY WAYS! Which he has said since the day we got married. Maybe before.

      I think what he really means is that I don't see a reason to be at his beck and call.

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  8. Hubby always wants to be early for appointments, too. Drives me crazy, but I've learned to ignore him.

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    1. That would certainly be fair, since Hick ignores ME most of the time.

      Hick doesn't care if he's early for an appointment. He just wants to leave early every time we have a trip planned for anywhere. Even the casino!

      In fact, he showed up 15 minutes late for one of his medical appointments, reasoning that they always make him wait a half hour, and they told him to leave, and that they'd reschedule. Didn't charge him, though. He complained to his regular doctor (who had referred him) and declared he was never going back there.

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  9. Glamour shots in reverse. Now, there is an idea for a business. I don't always wear make up, but I do keep it on hand for sympathy purposes. It is in instant supply here. I just slather on some bruises and then wait for someone to ask "WHAT HAPPENED??". Then I delicately downplay it and say that HeWho wasn't concerned, so it must be okay. I actually apply it very carefully to make it look authentic. It occurs to me that I would make a good make up artist for this new business.
    I did the Glamour shots thing once with my daughter in the 80's. She was 17 and I remember leaving the mall with all that make up and big hair. There was one shot of us together where they had me displayed on a table top with Jill sort of leaning over my side. I looked like a madam and my sweet young child looked like a hooker. AND ..... we actually bought the stupid pictures!! Awww sweet memories.

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    1. Is there anything you can't do? I am constantly amazed by your assorted talents! Heh, heh to your glamorous bordello.

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