The Incredible NeverEnding Journey

It takes less than an hour to travel from our house to the casino. When my favorite gambling aunt is driving, it takes less time than that. I had Hick as my chauffeur on Sunday, though, so a-sweaving we did go. We arrived safely, within the hour. Here's the thing...

We departed the casino at 2:17. We arrived home at 4:37. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?

Oh, I'll tell you how it's possible! I was an unwilling accomplice on a Goodwill tour. Hick is quick to complain about getting tied up at the casino, and not getting home in time to do anything. THIS is why! It should NOT take over two hours to get home from a less-than-an-hour trip. What is he, the skipper of the U.S.S Minnow?

The first Goodwill stop was only blocks from the casino. I don't know what Hick got there. I'm thinking some beer glasses. [Here's a picture of all his loot that he took on the side porch at dusk. Because we got home so late! That high chair has been there since he got it a while back. The cats don't even perch on it.]

 
From there we got back on the highway (thankfully, or another 45 minutes would have been added to the trip if he took the back roads like he does during rush hour). A few miles south, we stopped again, at one of Hick's other favorite Goodwills. He was in there forever. "I had to wait in line! They were having a half-price clothing sale." Not that Hick was clothes-shopping. He's not above it. He finds shorts and jeans there. I guess stocky, short-legged men are the sort to donate their pants. From that one, Hick took the back road further south, to another favorite Goodwill.

Here's where things got dicey. I was waiting in A-Cad, engine running so I didn't bake, the temperature being 98 degrees. Hick usually parks up on the end, but this day he parked on the main aisle, midway down. It's on a slope. I kept craning my neck, looking for Hick to appear. I guess they must have had a clothing sale here, too.

I tried to take a little nap, but that wasn't happening. I looked toward the store again, and saw a CART BARRELLING TOWARD A-CAD! Behind the cart was an old lady, probably my age, flinging her hands in the air, palms up, like, "What ya gonna do?"

Even though my sunglasses were on, and I was over on the passenger side, I think that lady saw that I was not pleased. A-Cad is NEW, people! I never drive him! Sure, he's a 2016. But he has hardly any miles on him, unless you count those trips to Oklahoma. He rests comfortably in the garage, out of the elements, unless a casino trip is necessary, or Hick has his truck hooked to a giant lifter and the TrailBlazer loaded with hardware for Bev's projects.

Once upon a time, I had myself a new car, only a couple months old, parked at work in Cuba, Missouri, and a STUDENT driving her boyfriend's truck, late for school, couldn't stop it while parking against the rules behind the gym, and SLAMMED into my left rear quarter-panel, necessitating thousands of dollars in repairs. Funny thing (funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha), that poor Nissan Sentra was the exact same color as A-Cad. Was this going to be deja vu all over again?

Anyhoo...I guess that lady didn't want me jumping out to kick her rumpus, and she started half-heartedly running after the runaway cart. It rammed a car parked two spaces up, and bounced back and a little sideways, then continued on its trajectory towards A-Cad. That collision slowed it a tiny bit, so that Old Lady My Age almost caught up, reaching out her age-spotted hands, and at the very last second, with that cart only inches from A-Cad, GRABBED HOLD OF THE HANDLE! Whew! I nodded at her. Just to let her know, you see, that her rumpus was safe from a kicking.

As Old Lady My Age was pushing that cart back up the aisle, here came Hick.

"Did you SEE that? She almost let her cart slam into my car!"

"Oh, is that what happened? I'm not sure that was even her cart."

"Well, why would she fling up her hands like that, then chase it when she saw me sitting inside, if that wasn't even her cart? Don't make her out to be an angel when she might be the devil."

"I don't know. Her purse was sitting in another cart up top."

"She had to have something to do with it. Maybe she separated the carts to get one, and didn't park it back right."

"Maybe. But I've been standing by the door talking to someone twice, and seen carts rolling down the lot we didn't know where they came from."

"Are you telling me that carts appear out of thin air and roll down the lot? And you call ME a conspiracy theorist?"

"No. We stand there with no one else around, and a cart takes off from where it's parked. Concrete vibrates, you know. Something set it off."

I was so discombobulated by that near-miss (which I think is a total miss, but people say this all the time when things actually miss) that I forgot (yeah, forgot--that's the ticket) to congratulate Hick on his find.

He says she's an actual Hummel. He got her for 50 cents.

"I know it's a real one. It says on the bottom, 'Made in Japan.' That's where Hummels come from."

"?" 

I guess by now, Hick can understand those side-eyes, even while he's driving sweaving.

"Oh. Germany. The Hummels first came from Germany. But the newer ones are made in Japan. That one is worth at least $15-$20."

"Does it say 'Hummel' on it?"

"No. But you can tell by the texture of them. It has a mark on the bottom. I just know it is."

So there you have it. We more than doubled our travel time home, but Hick thinks he's multiplied his Goodwill outlay on the Hummel by 30- or 40-fold.

Sheesh! It's not like he's accumulating a pennyillionaire fortune.

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ALTERNATE TITLES: (1) Goodwill Hunting  (2) Bah! Hummel!