The Lost Hick-Man Mind

No treasure to be found here at the Lost Hick-Man Mind. Only something to be lost. And not exactly a treasure.

Hick spends Saturdays and Sundays at his Storage Unit Store. He leaves home around 6:30 a.m. I don't know why. It's barely light at that time now. I thing he is having a secret breakfast. At the very least, donuts from Casey's. 

Anyhoo... Hick stays until 1:00 or 2:00. Sometimes one of his cronies up there cooks up a pot of food, or grills something. Sometimes Hick goes hungry until he closes up. Sometimes he takes something from home, like leftover pizza.

Friday night, Hick didn't have any leftovers to take. I thought of the foot-long Italian sub sandwich in FRIG II, that The Pony said he didn't really want. I'd bought two of them at Country Mart during the week, and Hick had eaten a half for a supper, warmed in the oven, and a half for a weekday lunch, cold, with mustard and pickles (I sliced for him) on it. That would be something he could take for lunches. Especially since it expired on Saturday. I was pretty sure it would still be good on Sunday at noon, too.

When I came upstairs around 4:30 a.m., I unwrapped that Italian sub, and cut it in half. I removed the pepper rings (which Hick doesn't like), and wrapped each half in foil. I left a paper plate note for Hick, on the bathroom sink. That's how we communicate if I need to tell him something during the inhuman pre-noon hours that he insists on roaming. I wrote that he could add mustard, and take those half-sandwiches for lunches. 

I was awakened around 6:30 by thumping on the back porch, and the flash of light through the french doors. Just Hick, putting dry food in the dogs' feeder, and them romping around. I dozed off after I heard the squeak of the kitchen door closing as Hick left. 

Five minutes later, I was awakened again. By the squeak of the kitchen door. Some thumping. The bathroom door at the other end of the house, by The Pony's room. I was hoping that it wasn't a burglar with a bladder problem! Surely Hick was halfway to town. Odd.

When I arose at 11:20, I discovered that the second door squeak had been Hick coming in to talk to The already-awake Pony.

"Dad told me to look for his sandwich. He knew he took it out, but he couldn't find it. So he made me look all over the kitchen, and on the porch, and even in JUNO'S DOG HOUSE! He thought maybe he laid it down, and she took it. So I dug around in her antler and bones, but didn't even see any foil in case she ate it. I told Dad it wasn't there, and he said he found it on the floor of the truck!"

Okay. I won't fault Hick with that one (as much as it goes against the every fiber of my being). I, too, have misplaced something that I just had a moment before. Like it has disappeared off the face of the earth. So I can't say that Hick has lost his faculties over the misplaced sandwich. It's what I learned later in the afternoon that caused me to cast aspersions.

"So, did you eat your sandwich for lunch?"

"Yeah. I'll take the other half tomorrow."

"Did you add mustard?"

"No."

"Ooh! You just ate it plain? Meat and bread?"

"I don't know what you expect from me, Val! I don't make it a habit to get up and make myself breakfast. Or lunch."

"Oh. Excuuuuse ME! After all, I only took that sandwich apart at 4:30 a.m., to take off the peppers you don't like, and cut it half for two servings, and tore off the foil and wrapped each one for you. I guess I was supposed to add the mustard for you! And while I was at it, I should have sliced some pickles, too! Maybe I should have chewed it up before wrapping, to make it easier for you to have for lunch!"

"You don't have to get all crazy about it, Val."

But I do.