What's Next, Hiding the Forks, and Plugging Plastic Thingies into the Electrical Outlets?

Some days, it's dang hard to keep Hick alive. He's his own worst enemy. And MINE, too! 

For several days, or more factually NIGHTS, Hick has been sleeping, or more factually NOT sleeping, in The Pony's old room. Trying out a different mattress to see if that might affect his hip pain after back surgery.

I moved a couple of bins out of the way, and washed the bedding. But I did not do a deep clean of The Pony's room. That's The Pony's job. We're still waiting... he moved out last May. He DID gather up most of his stuff. And threw away some boxes that his stuff had come in. A big bag of trash has been sitting there, waiting for The Pony to find time to come back and finish the job. It's not really a hardship. We keep the door closed, and don't need that room.

Anyhoo... even though the bag of boxes was at the foot of the bed, not in a path where anybody would walk, Hick determined that The Pony needed to move that bag of trash when he was here briefly on Tuesday.

"Pony. On your way out, take that bag of trash and put it in the dumpster as you go up the driveway."

"Wait. There's another storm coming in tonight. The dumpster just got dumped this morning. We laid it down. There's no need to put trash in it now, because it might get torn up by the dogs, like the last bag of trash. It's bad enough that neighbor guy made his boys bring the dumpster down the driveway! Apparently they also had to pick up loose trash. I saw it in the bottom of the dumpster when I took out our most recent bag of trash before the dumping."

"It ain't gonna hurt nothin'."

"It can wait a day! I will drive it up and set up the dumpster on my way to town tomorrow afternoon, after the storm has passed through. Pony! Just carry the bag out and put it in the garage. I'll load it up tomorrow."

"No. It can go on top of the Acadia, Pony. Just set it on the hood."

I was getting ready to go to town. We had just returned from a 90-minute drive to the casino. Pony left, and I went to get my scratchers. No big winners! 

When I got home and parked in the garage, a thought hit me. I went to the Acadia and felt the hood. HOT! With a bag of year-old cardboard boxes sitting on top! I moved them onto a bag of dog food. Then went in the house to question Hick on his sanity.

"Them boxes ain't gonna catch fire!"

"Are you psychic? Bundles of rags catch fire in garages."

"That's spontaneous combustion!"

"AND... Are you saying dry boxes left on a hot car hood can't spontaneously combust?"

"Well. There's a 99.9 percent chance they won't..."

Uh huh.