Another Hickism

Wednesday morning, I asked Hick if he was ever going to leave. Him not having a current project has wreaked havoc with my routine. Hick is usually up at 5:30 a.m., and gone by 6:15. Without a purpose, he has been sleeping in. Until 7:00. Then he hangs around a bit. That's usually when I doze off after my 6:00 phone call to The Pony.

"I'm waiting for the hardware store to open. The gal don't get there before 8:00. I'll leave in a few minutes. By the time I get my donut, she'll be open."

"What do you need from the hardware store?"

"I need some... uh, well... heh, heh. They're called sex bolts. They have another name, but everybody calls them sex bolts. They have one end that goes into another end."

"Like nuts and bolts?"

"No. One side's not threaded. They just fit inside each other. And then nothin' don't stick out. They're used for stuff like holding a saw blade in the handle. Or parts of a gun or BB gun. I need some to make repairs to some of my inventory at my shop."

I kind of understood when he gave the saw blade example. Then later Hick came home with a paper sack of sex bolts, and showed me a couple.

"She didn't have as many as I wanted. Said nobody does. The supplier is out. I need to find somewhere to get my sex bolts."

I'm not sure EVERYBODY calls these gadgets by that name. I've never heard it before.

A Yearly Treat

We met my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel on Thursday, to have lunch with her and her husband. Our meeting place is a little restaurant on our way to Casino Town. No, we did not go to the casino. It's a busy time getting ready for Christmas. Mabel and I exchange gifts, and she gets a whole batch of Chex Mix, while I receive handmade chocolate-covered cherries, made by Mabel's own hands. Maybe I can get a picture of those in the future. Today, you're here for a respite from Bargain House talk, to feast with your eyes.

We arrived at 11:00. Hick was happy, because that meant he could still order from the breakfast menu. He had what I think was called Breakfast 2.

That's biscuits with gravy, sausage patties, hash browns, and two fried eggs over medium. Oh, and not soda, but tea for Hick's beverage.

 I had the chicken bacon sandwich, with fries. That's mayo and ketchup on the side. This picture doesn't really do my sandwich justice. So I'll give you a side view:

Thick, juicy chicken breast. And you can see the tomato on top, and melted pepperjack on the chicken. I did not want the lettuce on mine. What you can't see is my pickle spear hiding behind the sandwich. I love a good dill pickle.

Mabel had a classic cheeseburger. Her favorite, the Smoked Gouda Pork Burger, is only served on Mondays. She has commanded that we return in January, ON A MONDAY, to eat this burger. I'm game!

Mr. Mabel had pancakes, modeled here by Mabel's own chocolate-covered-cherry-making hands. Poor Mr. Mabel endured some dental work the previous day, and can only eat soft foods for about a month! I don't have sympathy for many people, but I DO have sympathy for Mr. Mabel. I hate going to the dentist. He had a bruised jaw, like my mom used to get from the dentist. He also had some scrambled eggs to accompany the pancakes.

Hick and I devoured every morsel on our plates, but Mabel and her mister did not. We are gluttonous locusts when we go out, consuming everything in sight. Keep your hands and feet away from our mouths! If you like looking online at food pictures and menus, here's a link. I was waffling between that chicken sandwich, and the smoked turkey/bacon sandwich, and the kettle beef. I guess we can go back more often so I can try them all!

A nice visit was had by all. Mabel updated me on the latest happenings with mutual acquaintances, and Hick and Mr. Mabel talked nonstop about nothing. I swear, those two could have their own TV show about nothing. At least it's like nothing to me. Cars, guns, flip houses, flea market stores...

Can you believe they all tried to tell me how glorious knee replacement surgery can be??? I swear, for a minute, I thought this whole reunion was a cleverly-planned intervention! Two things DID pique my interest. "They have units in the hospital where you can stay and get physical therapy for up to 10 days, or you can go home the same day." And, "You will be able to do things in the afternoon that you couldn't do in the morning before your surgery."

We'll see what January brings. For sure, it won't be bringing me a knee replacement. 

The Closing Comes to a Close

As a closer of several houses, I have come to not-stress as much as I used to as the date looms. It's not the part about making a commitment to pay tens of thousands of dollars, or to accept them from somebody else. It's the actual event. The time I am trapped sitting at a conference table, making small talk while waiting to sign papers and have my driver's license copied. At least I know the layout of the abstract company where we have been closing our deals. The facilitator is kind and businesslike, and gets it over with quickly. And Hick and The Pony are there to draw any attention away from me.

Wednesday, I picked up The Pony, drove a couple miles back to the office, and waited for time to go in, or for Hick to arrive. A car parked behind me while T-Hoe was still rolling.

"Oh, no! I think that's Realtor behind us. I wonder if she wanted this parking space. I could pull up to the handicap space. But then I'd have to walk farther back to the steps to get to the ramp."

"You're fine, Mom." Just then a lady walked past the passenger side, and The Pony said (louder than I felt was necessary) "It IS Realtor!"

"Shh! She heard that!"

"Well, it IS her. So it's not like I said anything bad."

"Oh, no. I bet she sits in my chair! You know, because it's on the end. We haven't used a realtor before, but I bet that's where they sit. And the Abstract Lady at the other end."

"It will be fine, Mom. I'll hold your chair so it doesn't roll back when you sit down."

"I hope there's room for that against the wall..."

Hick drove up, and parked across the street. We all went inside. Abstract Lady was holding the door open for us. We went into the conference room, and indeed, Realtor was in MY seat! Not that she knew, of course. Most people don't go to these things often enough to have their own chair. I was able to get past Hick, already seated in HIS chair, and get situated with The Pony's help. Coincidentally, The Pony sat at the other end of the table, opposite Realtor. Abstract Lady sat across from Hick.

Abstract Lady summarized the pages, and showed where our signatures were needed. On the second form, I noted that my middle initial was wrong! "Oh, we'll need to change that. Here. I marked it out. Just write yours in, and initial." So I did. On all the forms! The Pony and I are sure the error was because Hick went by before they drew up the papers, and his chicken-scratch writing made it indecipherable. He DID say that Realtor had told him to sign my name to save time.

Anyhoo... when we were gathering the TEN-DOLLAR cashier's check from the bank, I had asked Hick if the amount due at closing had been adjusted for the $500 of earnest money he had put down with the contract when he started the title search at the Abstract Company. He said it was. He had called Realtor (who was at a doctor's appointment that day) to get the amount due. She had checked with Abstract Lady and gave him the amount over the phone.

Anyhoo... when we got to the page showing the financial details, such as who was paying the 2024 taxes due, and current utilities, I elbowed Hick. "Did you ask about the $500 earnest money?" He asked Abstract Lady if it had been included, and she said that it had. She pointed to that part on the form. Hick looked at it.

"But it shows here that it wasn't subtracted."

Abstract Lady looked again. "Oh. That's right. We'll cut you a check for $500 before you leave."

Then a discussion ensued about how the amounts are listed, with Realtor saying she always expects the final number in the column to be the amount due, but this form had the total in the next-to-last line, and then showed the $500 had already been paid. So it seemed an honest mistake, either in the writing of the form, or the perception by Realtor. Even my conspiracy theory mind does not suspect Realtor and Abstract Lady of running a scam to split an extra $500. I think Abstract Lady was a bit embarrassed by that little faux pas.

Anyhoo... Abstract Lady went to copy our IDs, and a set of documents for us. Hick chatted with Realtor, who said, 

"If you get your other property divided, I can sell those houses in no time! Especially the little one. So many people call about it. That's the one they see, on the main street as they go by. It's a cute little house. 

I'm from the era where you saved money for a down payment, and then got a loan to buy a house. These days, there are so many programs where you can get a house without a down payment. You wouldn't believe the number of people I get who want to put $100 down with me to make an offer, but then ask me if I can wait on cashing the check until their payday!

The thing with your houses is that no government loan program is going to loan anybody money with nothing down if there is a way for them to make money on that property. Like having a second house to rent. The loan is what's holding it up. With the houses having separate addresses, on different streets, I'm pretty optimistic that the city will let you divide them."

The things you learn! So that division process is underway, with a date of mid-January for the decision. 

Anyhoo... Abstract Lady came back with a little bag of goodies for us (sometime I'll give you a photo), and the best goody of a $500 check. The Pony and I went from there to Casey's, where I bought him that $500 winning scratcher. So I was instrumental in "earning" us $1000 that day!

It pays to roll with Val!

The Ink Is Barely Dry on the Closing Documents

We just signed the papers to officially own Bargain House on Wednesday. On Thursday, Hick was already furnishing that purchase.

On the way to meet my best ol' ex-teaching buddy Mabel for lunch, we passed a driveway with something at the end.

"Did you see that? I think it was a sink! If it's still there, I'm stopping on the way home!"

"Well. At least you'll be on the right side of the road for it then..."

"I'll pull into their driveway!"

Hick is as lucky about finding furnishings for flip houses as I am with finding winning scratchers! That sink WAS still there two hours later as we headed home. 

"Get me a picture!"

Hick is not great with picture composition. But at least this one was not a small item of interest in a giant panoramic view. Though I could have done without his shadow.

"This will be great for the new house's bathroom! It will save me about $150. The faucet by itself is probably worth $70. And there's two little water connector pipes on the back. They're $10 each."

As Hick was leaving that random driveway, he saw something on the gravel.

"Did I leave some trash? Maybe it fell out of the car. I can't leave trash behind."

He got out to pick it up. It was that Walmart plastic bag shown in the sink. Hick didn't look in it yet. He thinks it was some kind of pipe that goes with the sink.

Anyhoo... a sink has fallen into Hick's lap. The Pony was almost as excited as Hick, when I sent the picture to inform him of the free sink.

Of All the Random Randomness

I picked up The Pony on Wednesday (his day off) to go to the closing for the Bargain House. The Pony had forgotten to pick up a card for Hick's birthday, so I said we had time to swing by Country Mart. The Pony mentioned that while inside getting the card, he could pick us up some scratchers. However, when The Pony got in T-Hoe, he said he had forgotten his cash in the house.

"Never mind. I'm going by there later anyway, to get the Sister Schubert's Rolls for Christmas Dinner. And I already planned to get some scratchers. I've been getting the gift tickets this week. So no big deal."

The Pony got the card. He gave Hick a candy bar ("If Dad doesn't want it, I'll eat it!") and a gift card to a local pub where Hick has eaten before. "Somebody on my route gave it to me, and made sure to tell me that it expires December 31. I don't go there, but I know Dad had eaten there before."

After the closing, we drove a block to the School-Turn Casey's.

"I'm going in to use their bathroom and get some lottery tickets."

"Oh. Well. I forgot my money, but I was really feeling like a $50 ticket."

"I might have enough money with me..."

"I'll go in and get my money when your drop me off."

So in I went. The bathroom was occupied. I went to the counter for my tickets. They had two $50 tickets in their case. I had not planned on getting one here for the gift tickets. I felt like the Sis-Town Casey's was calling me for that one. In choosing The Pony's ticket, I went against the choice I would have made for a gift ticket. I don't know why. The other one has better odds. But something about that ticket got my attention.

Out in T-Hoe, I told The Pony we should wait until we were in his driveway to scratch it. Because I didn't want to take up the single handicap space for that. The Pony was chomping at the bit, but agreed. Once we got to his house, The Pony started scratching. He does the top of the ticket first. The bonus part.

He was leaning over the dashboard, where I couldn't see what he was scratching. "Mom. You're not going to believe this, but..."

The Pony won $500 on that ticket! Yes, he went in the house and brought me money to pay for it. I was shocked. I never expected this ticket to win anything. I guess I just can't help my luck!

Bargain House, Not Quite Ready to Make Its Debut

Tuesday, I asked Hick to get some pictures of our newest purchase (as of TODAY), Bargain House. He drives by that area on his way to the Senior Center, where he was going to deliver presents to the people who also have their meals delivered.

"Be careful you don't get bit!" I said, meaning by pets, but with an uneasy realization that it could be by a person, since that one lady last year started ranting about her neighbor getting a bigger present. As if Hick can see inside to know what the gift is.

"Heh, heh! I won't get bit! I'm just the driver. My buddy is the one who gets out to deliver the gifts. I'll sit in the car."

Which made me wonder if it's the same buddy who got bitten in the armpit by a dog too tall for the fence, while delivering meals last month.

Anyhoo... Hick had driven by Bargain House the day before, just to see if people were still trying to get inside from seeing the listing, which has been coded as PENDING, but is still online.

"I didn't see nobody there, but the ladder was gone out of the back yard. And it looked like something had been drug across the back porch. I can't remember what was there that was big enough to do that. I tried the doors, and nobody can get inside."

"Get me some pictures. Outside and inside. It's not that big."

"I don't want to do that right now, in case the seller comes by to get some of their stuff. That might be where the ladder went."

"Oh. Well. It's just another day or two."

I'm sure you're just as eager as I am to get a peek! 

Allowing Hick to Deal with Financial Matters Is Like Lighting a Ticking Time Bomb

We have the closing on our newest flip house on Wednesday. Yeah! That WAS exceptionally quick! Ten days from viewing, offer, and close. It was Monday when Hick found out the amount of money due at closing. He had gone by the office of our Realtor. Saw her car, but she wasn't there. A phone call revealed that she was in the city for a routine medical appointment. She called Hick back with the amount.

On our last purchase, Hick wanted one check to present at closing. So we pulled money from our sources, and put it in one account, and drew a cashier's check from that account. This time, Hick decided we should take two cashier's checks, one from each source, because it would be easier. Okay. Not my problem, since he was doing the legwork. 

Thing is, last Friday Hick asked a representative of one financial institution if they needed a cashier's check for us to deposit into the account, to draw one cashier's check from it. She said they could take a personal check.

WHAT?

I asked Hick if he told her the amount. Oh. Well. No. He did not. I thought that might make a difference. Even though we've had money there for over 35 years, surely they have a policy in place for the amount of money they can accept from a personal check. So I called to ask. Huh. The gal, upon hearing the amount we would be depositing, said that a cashier's check would be easier to deal with. 

Again, not a problem. We just needed to know, since time is of the essence, and with only one day for the transfer, we didn't want to have a hold on the check. So I informed Hick, who said Realtor gave him the bright idea of just bringing TWO cashier's checks, one from each institution. 

Off Hick went to the bank. An experience he found off-putting.

"I told them I was there to get a cashier's check for closing on a house, and the gal told me it would cost me ten dollars! I was NOT happy. I asked her why. We've been banking there forever. We have more than twice the amount of that check in our account. You would think that was good enough for them just to give us a cashier's check. They used to do it for no charge, back when we bought the QuickFlip in the summer. I was so mad I almost said, 'Then just give me all my money. I'm taking it out.' But I didn't So we had to pay ten dollars to get the cashier's check."

That's a relief. I hate to think of Hick carting around all that money. It gives me visions of Hick wallowing in it like Scrooge McDuck.

On the Route

The rain poured down all day on Saturday. Hopefully, The Pony did not break out in a mystery rash again. I'm sure I would have been privy (heh, heh, I said privy) to that information. After all, The Pony shared a part of his day with me on break, and after work.

I imagine The Pony was singing in his head when he texted:

"Someone, left a cupcake, in the rain..." With a musical note emoji thingy after it.

"But it took so long to bake it, and they'll never have the recipe again!"

Looks like somebody already took a little bite out of one side. Or maybe the rain was particularly heavy on that side. It's not like a treat somebody might have left out for their mailman. The Pony said he has gotten some holiday sweets from a few houses. I'm sure he uses discernment when considering whether they are worth ingesting.

Later, leaving work, The Pony sent another text:

"A lifted truck with at least seven people dressed as elves in the bed just drove past me."

"What in the randomness???"

"It was by Country Mart. Maybe Salvation Army type bell-ringers? But. So many..."

Never a dull moment in a day on the job with The Pony.

Oh, I Almost Forgot

With all the excitement of discovering and buying a new flip house on Monday and Tuesday, I almost forgot to share my OTHER excitement with you.

That's a $3 ticket, and I won $500 on it! Pretty good deal, I'd say. I knew I had five rows that won. I assumed the prize under each would be $3. That's what I usually win on them, though a while back I think I had a $100 winner.

This ticket is not sold many places now. Their $3 slot is taken by the current Christmas ticket, which is not nearly as fun. Maybe because I haven't won $500 on it, heh, heh!

Anyhoo... this big winner came out of the left machine at 10Box. It's number 015. A roll of these tickets goes up to 099. Here's my dilemma: do I continue to play out of that machine? The other machine ran out of these tickets. I'm pretty sure there's not a bigger winner on this roll. Probably not even a decent winner. Do I get the Christmas tickets instead, even though they're kind of boring, and hope for something good? Or do I buy more of these tickets I enjoy off that roll I have already taken the big winner from?

Decisions, decisions. Val people problems.

I Would Walk 200 Feet

Sorry, I can't get that "500 Miles" song out of my head. It's on my playlist that I listen to when I scratch my lottery winners tickets, and the tale Hick told on Tuesday reminded me of it. You know Hick. What comes out of his mouth is not always what his brain thinks it's revealing.

"I went to talk to the people at the city. The lady there told me I have to walk around 200 feet to hand each person a handwritten letter and then they will think about it and see if we can split the flip houses."

"Um. Okay. I'm not sure about this. A HANDWRITTEN letter? Do you mean one that you make up in your head, and then type out? Or do you mean an actual letter written with your hands?"

"I mean we don't need no lawyer. Just a handwritten letter that you can type and I'll go make copies of."

"So you have to go to the meeting and walk around and hand it to each person on the committee? I don't get the 200 feet. Are they that far apart at the meeting? What if somebody needs a scooter to get around?"

"It's not to hand them to the committee, Val! I have to get on the agenda for the scheduled meeting, and that gal I talked to will make sure they all have a copy of the letter."

"The handwritten letter that I'm going to type up for you to make copies."

"Yes!"

"You're gonna have to help me out here. I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You cain't understand NOTHIN'! They're going to give me a map with a circle on it. I have to walk around and hand out a copy of the letter to houses within 200 feet of the flip house."

"Oh. That makes more sense. So you just put it in their mailbox? That's illegal!"

"I knock on their door and hand it to them, and tell them what it says. That we want to split the property. And if they have any objections, they go to the meeting and tell the Planning and Zoning Commission. They have 15 days to do it. We don't have to mail it certified letter. If they're not home, I can stick it in their door or put it in their mailbox."

"The letter that might be handwritten or typed."

"It's just a LETTER! We don't need no lawyer to draw it up. Just a letter telling them what we want to do! And I have to walk the property and measure it, and give them a picture showing where I want to divide it. And the lady will put the Lot and Plat number on it for the county, unless you have that from the tax bills you just paid, and you can write it on there."

"Then how is the county going to know to send out future tax bills?"

"IF the whole thing gets approved by the Planning and Zoning Commission, we have to get a surveyor to split the property, and then we tell the county so they know to give it a different number."

"That sounds really confusing. But promising. Like it might not be impossible to split it."

"I can't imagine anybody around there objecting. I don't think 200 feet will even reach any other houses on that one side. Across from the Beauty Shop is a preacher, so he will understand what we want to do. (?) And on the side is the guy we bought it from, and next to him is his grown daughter. They won't care. Across the side street is them guys renovating that big house. They don't care. And across the alley is that two-unit apartment. So I can't imagine that owner would object."

"Are you going to tell them that you want to split it so you can sell it easier, rather than have an investor buy it to rent?"

"I ain't tellin' them nothing except we want to split it into two properties. The commission knows why. But I don't think the people need to know."

"If I was living there, I'd rather have neighbors who BOUGHT the house. They're more likely to take care of it than a stream of renters."

"Yeah. I might tell them if they ask me why. That I don't want to rent the houses and have them tore up. I'd rather sell them separately than rent the two."

"I imagine people are not going to open their door. They'll pretend they're not home, because they'll see some crazy guy with a paper knocking on their door. So you'll just be leaving the letter for them."

"Maybe."

It looks like the task of splitting the Double Hovel will take several steps, and a bit of time, but it doesn't seem impossible. That's a good thing.

More In the Good News Department

While Hick was in Realtor's office asking to tour the $35,000 house, he learned some interesting information.

"I could sell that little house of yours. People call all the time asking about it. Because it's so small. Then I have to tell them that it can't be bought separately."

Good to know! There's a lot of interest. I suppose they see the sign in the front yard of the Beauty Shop, walk around and take a peek inside, and then call the number on the sign to ask about the price.

"That's a good thing. I would have thought the big house would have more people wanting it. They can see through the shades that the Beauty Shop is really small. Probably single people, old people, or a young couple."

"The problem is the loan. Because it's more than one house, and considered an investment property, they have to put 20 percent down. They can't get a VA loan or something else like that."

"She's not going to make much off this $35,000 sale, is she. What, a few hundred dollars? Because it's a split listing."

"No. She'll get two-and-a-half percent."

"I know. That's what I'm saying. Ten percent would be $3,500. Five would be $1,750. And two-and-a-half would be $875."

"Yeah. Just for taking 15 minutes to drive across town and walk through it with me, and then do the paperwork. That's pretty good money for that effort."

I suppose so, since that's what you've done for years, and know how it works. Not as glamourous as selling the $999,999 property, but still worthwhile, with it not even being her listing. Hick said some of his buddies saw it on Zillow. Realtor said she had thought about getting on Zillow, but she didn't know if it was worth it to pay their fee. She said she relies on word-of-mouth to steer people to her. Hick agreed. That's how his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) business runs.

"I could get ads on the radio, but I don't think it would bring me no more business than my customers telling their friends."

"So now that you know people want the Beauty Shop, are you going to talk to the city people again about splitting the flip houses?"

"I'm going up there anyway to talk to them about getting the water left on. So I'll ask more specifically what I need to do."

Hate to leave you with another cliffhanger... but that's a story for another day.

Stealers Gonna Steal

Hick got home from the auction after 9:00 p.m. He indeed verified that Realtor said she would call the next day to let him know if the seller accepted our offer. The listing was through another agency, and I don't know how that works. Maybe it's why she couldn't get an immediate answer, maybe not.

"I'm worried somebody else is going to offer MORE than the list price."

"I don't think so."

"You said it's a good price."

"Yeah. If you're in this business and let a house like this get away, you ain't serious about flipping houses. When I was there doing the paperwork, which took a long time, because she did it all on computer, I seen 10 appointments scheduled to look at that house!"

"Well... not everybody who looks at it will want to buy it. And some will have to talk to their wife or business partner. I'm just worried that the owner will hear about all the showings, and want to wait for a higher offer. Can they do that? Can a realtor tell them how much another offer is?"

"I don't think so. I think once a seller accepts an offer, they have to go through with it. They can't back out and wait for more money."

"That's just it. I wonder how much time they wanted to think it over. Who's selling it? What's wrong with it?"

"The old lady died, and the old man went into a nursing home. He supposedly doesn't have long to live. The son has power of attorney. He's hoping to sell it before the old man dies. Or else it might get tied up. I showed my buddy at the auction. He asked how it looked. I told him it wasn't big enough for him. He likes bigger houses. He said from the pictures that it would rent right now for $600 a month, just like it is. But I wouldn't want to rent it without upgrading the electric. He hires that kind of work out to people, but I do it myself."

We had nothing to do but wait. I had an annual doctors appointment the next morning. Hick drove me. He waited in A-Cad while I was inside, playing with his phone, which he has linked to the radio thingy to get calls while driving. When I finally came out at 10:20, we were still leaving the parking lot as the radio rang. It was Realtor.

"Looks like you bought yourself a house!"

WooHoo! I immediately sent a text to The Pony. Who replied: "Woo!!!"

Off Hick and I went to the abstract company, to leave our earnest money deposit check (Realtor had told Hick she couldn't take it unless our offer was accepted). Hick drove me home, switched to SilverRedO, and went back to town. He had asked Realtor if he could lock up the doors, which had been open since the day before. Realtor had not even needed a key to get in to show Hick. She said that yes, he could lock it up. 

There were a bunch of fishing poles hanging on the back porch, and some tools sitting on a shelf. Realtor said the seller didn't say if they wanted those items, but that she had said they could remain. Of course Hick wanted those items!

"I bet people are still looking at that house today. You SHOULD get it locked up."

"Yeah. I'm going to put a screw in the front door to keep it from opening, so people don't just walk in."

"What about the back door? Can't you nail it shut?"

"No. It opens in. I have a doorknob at my locker. I'll bring it back on my way home, and put it on."

Hick went by New House to put in the screw, and called me.

"Huh. I came over to the house, and there was three guys inside! They was looking around. They were flippers. I told the guy he was too late, that I just bought it. And he said they were going to offer MORE than the listing price!"

"SEE? Val was right again! You better get that house locked up. I'm sure more people will be stopping by. I guess if they plan on making an offer, they're not going to steal anything. But someone could. Or move in!"

"Somebody had turned up the heat to 85! Maybe to see if it works."

"There you go! Can't you get a doorknob around there close? Who knows how many people might go in before you get back from your locker!"

"Yeah. I think I need to go to Walmart and get a new doorknob to lock it up. And I'm putting the fishing poles and tools in the house. Most of it's been cleaned out. Like there's no dishes or furniture or anything. I can give Realtor a key in case the seller wants to get that stuff."

Heh, heh. We've owned the house for less than an hour, and there's already drama!

The Steal of the Century?

Let's face it, people. The days of buying a $17,000 house are over. Oh, how I rue progress. Hick has no more buddies willing to offer him a house for $5000. So we've been in the doldrums while casually seeking a new flip house.

The Pony often sends me listings he's seen. Nothing has been under $65,000. That's not worth it for us to purchase and put money into for flipping. You have to know what you're buying, and Hick has a head for renovating. Even that foreclosure that he was interested in with a couple hours of notice was not right for us. I told him that something will come along when it's meant to be.

Monday when I sat down at the kitchen table and turned on HIPPIE, I went immediately to realtor.com. I usually don't check it every day. And when I do look, it's before I go to town around 2:00. But here it was, 11:45, and I saw a listing that had been up for 1 hour. It was a $35,000 house. Only one picture, from the outside, from Google Earth. It actually looked like a big tree ball. You could barely see a sliver of front door and mailbox in the foliage. I knew the general area of the street, and the town.

I sent Hick a text about it, telling him there were no inside pictures, which was suspect. But that on his way to the auction that afternoon, he might want to drive by and look to see if it was a stinky hoarder house, or what was wrong with it. He didn't respond, so I called.

Hick was on the way to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to meet with a bunch of local law enforcement officers to draw the winner of a raffle they were holding for an item he donated to raise money for Shop With A Cop. They raised $613 with Hick's item! Hick even wore a button-up collared shirt for the occasion! He couldn't get away until after the drawing.

I sent The Pony a text. He remembered that area from delivering mail there when he first started. Said the neighborhood was good. 

Back to Google Earth. A 360 view revealed some roof that looked metal and fairly new. It was 2BR 1 Bath. A four-room house, with a cellar, on a corner lot.

Hick sent me a text at 2:15.

"It don't look bad from outside ill run buy realtor's. There is some inside pictures now"

I was getting ready for town, and told him I'd look later. At 2:45, Hick called me while I was in T-Hoe at a stoplight.

"We went and looked. Two more people had appointments after me. I'm heading back over there to offer the full amount and sign papers! I have my auction cash if she wants earnest money."

Hick was in a hurry. Not a problem this time. The Pony and I were both all-in for going after this house. Of course then Hick went off to the auction, so we were left in the dark. I told The Pony I was afraid there might be a bidding war. Houses this cheap don't stay available for long. The last one like it, Hick waited three days before driving by, and it was already under contract. The Pony sent me a text on his way home.

"I guess we won't know until tomorrow at the earliest..."

Ain't that always how it goes?

Getting It Over With

As I type, it's the night before my regular doctor appointment. Which is a bit misleading, because it's with a nurse practitioner. I like him just fine. He's an affable fellow. Seems to have my best interests in mind. Never gives me any lip. I just hate going to a doctor appointment every six months. It might even be once a year now. I forget. Is that a bad sign? Now that I don't have two insurances, I suppose it does not behoove him to see me so often. That's fine with me! I only go to keep getting refills on my BP and thyroid prescriptions.

Anyhoo... now the clinic has moved out of their regular offices on the floors above the local hospital, into a new building that Hick thinks is about a block behind the hospital. I hate going new places! Now I'll have to find out where my NP's specific office is located within that building. Supposedly they have their own lab on site. So I'll have to figure out where to go to get my blood drawn.

This appointment has been scheduled for over a month. Not a day has gone by that I didn't have it percolating on the back burner of my mind, dreading it. I've asked Hick to drive by when he's over in Bill-Paying Town at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), just so at least HE will know where we're going. Nope. Too much trouble for him to drive a mile out of his way. At least he will be driving me to the appointment, to drop me off at the door.

Hmm... maybe something interesting will happen that I can blog about.

Even Steven Needs to Spread the Calamities Around

The Pony is not a hog. He will gladly give up some of the recent calamities Even Steven has steered his way. No need to have more than his fair share. As if Tuesday's dog bite on the rumpus wasn't enough for the week, The Pony had a bad Thursday. It started before work.

"Pulled a spider out of my hair in the shower. Great start to the day. Ugh."

"Noooo!"

I choked back my urge to share information about how many spiders the average person swallows in a year. At least The Pony's dog bite was looking better. For a day-and-a-half of healing. Hardly any bruising. I guess that dog couldn't get a good grip, with the location being barely on the rumpus proper, where it joins the upper thigh.

Sadly, a hair spider was not the extent of The Pony's misfortune that day. I got another text when The Pony got home at 5:18.

"Today was not my day. Overbalanced while carrying a 50-pound big package, fell, and busted up my knee. Again!"

"Noooo! I'm so sorry! Want me to look for some new tights/long underwear for you?"

"Nah, I've got a good rotation even if this pair is now deeply bloodstained and another has a dog hole in the ass."

"A phrase I was happily ignorant of until a few seconds ago!"

"Hey, I don't know what else to call the teeth holes."

Once cleaned up at home, the wound itself didn't look too bad. By the next morning, the knee was swollen like it had two kneecaps.

"What kind of package was it? A bag of something? A box?"

"It was an awkward box. As tall as from my waist to the top of my head. I was walking down a slight incline, and it pulled me over. The box said it contained a child's playset. 

A table and four chairs."

Anyhoo... The Pony is surviving. Sunday, I asked if he'd talked to the people with the dog.

"No, I haven't seen them. But they're usually not outside. Funny thing, their RING doorbell is suddenly inactive."

"Of course! They had to destroy any evidence of their dog with its teeth in your butt! Are they that kind of people?"

"I don't think so, no. But it's odd that all at once their RING doesn't work."

"At least that bite isn't hurting you too much."

"Yeah. The knee is worse. It was cold that day, and I rolled up that pants leg to expose it to the coolness. Also, because sometimes people at the end of the route get all pissy if their mail is running late, and that way I could just point to the bloody knee as if 

'THIS is the reason!'"

That's our little Pony, plodding on in the face of calamity.

Val, the Possible Enabler, Has No Regrets

I was in a foul mood coming out of the Gas Station Chicken Store on Saturday. YOU KNOW WHY! My handicap space was taken again by the usual suspect. I was right in front of that offending vehicle, going past to get to T-Hoe parked behind in the FREE AIR space, when I heard...

"Hi. Uhh..."

It was a guy I had seen come up from the moat that separates the parking lot from Hick's pharmacy parking lot. Rather than walking along the back alley road that connects them, this guy had just gone down one side and up the other. It's usually dry at the bottom, or just a trickle. 

Moat Guy was in his early 30s, I think. Wearing light colored jeans, a t-shirt, and a gray zip-up hoodie, the hood of which covered his noggin. A noggin that I later found to be bald in front, with the rest of the stubble on his scalp the color of hair. You know that color. Not brown, not gray. Just hair-colored.

Anyhoo... Moat Guy walked over towards the gas pumps leading to the front door. He didn't get too close, but it was clear he wanted to talk to me.

"I've been walking. I haven't had anything to drink for a whole day. My food card is delayed. It won't be here for three or four days. I've been staying with my friend, and said I'd help pay the electric bill."

"Here. I can spare a dollar for you."

I had it right there in my hand, on top of the two crossword scratchers and two Christmas scratchers and the Cash4Life draw ticket that I get every day for The Pony. That dollar was my change, from cashing in a $20 winner and getting those tickets. I couldn't imagine just walking by this guy with that dollar in plain sight. He took it and thanked me. And kept talking!

"I'm on my way over to School-Turn Town. I've got another friend over there. I'm going down the old road. It's only about seven miles. I need to find myself a job so I can earn some money to help out."

"You know what? I never do this. But I want you to have this." I took a twenty out of my pocket and handed it to him. "I don't care what you do with it. Maybe you will find somebody else who wants to help out."

By this time, White Truck Dude was coming out. We were standing right in front of his truck. If only I was evil enough to keep standing there, talking to Moat Guy, preventing White Truck Dude from leaving, heh, heh. He couldn't back up, because T-Hoe was too close, since the white truck was taking up part of the FREE AIR space as well as the handicap space. Alas, I just hastened along as White Truck Dude got in and closed the door.

"I've got to get going. I hope everything works out for you."

As I was walking alongside the white truck, Dude took off. But Moat Guy stayed at the corner of the building, still talking!

"Hey, my house is so dusty, that when I was cleaning it, I looked in the mirror, and thought, 'When did I grow hair?' It was DUST on my head!" He pulled down his gray hoodie, and showed his head. Which was not dusty now. Just bald in front.

I chuckled and gave him a wave as I climbed into T-Hoe. He seemed harmless enough, but I was not about to offer him a ride! Val may be a soft touch for beggars, but she is NOT soft-headed!

I've never seen Moat Guy around here. He wasn't standing outside the store begging. He didn't have a sign. Didn't appear drunk or high. He wasn't stick-thin, and didn't have meth teeth or a beer belly. Just a regular size guy, not dressed for a black-tie dinner, but not in dirty rags. I think maybe he had mental issues, maybe getting his food card because of a disability. He rambled, but knew how to speak in sentences. Seemed a bit lonely.

Twenty-one dollars is not going to bankrupt me. It's not enough that he could buy something that would harm himself. I figure he needed it more than I did. As I went past on the side street at the light, I did not see Moat Guy walking down the road to School-Turn Town. Nor was he outside the Gas Station Chicken Store. Maybe he was inside, buying a drink. Of one sort or another...

My mood had greatly improved.

I Really Hope He Bought These Two Tickets

There's a chance that the last-laugh ball might be back in Val's court. That Val is serving up a heapin' helpin' cold dish of revenge!

Remember yesterday, when I told of White Truck Dude sitting in my rightful handicap space outside the Gas Station Chicken Store, bloviating with an old man in a red truck? And how he drove away when I pulled in behind him, signifying that his business was already done there?

I hope he bought these two tickets:

That's the $3 Christmas ticket that I buy every day at the Gas Station Chicken Store. This is one that I bought on Thursday after regaining my rightful handicap parking space. It won $60!

This is the $10 ticket I also bought that day. It won $100!

I know White Truck Dude buys scratchers there. Also, I've seen him buy these two tickets. I don't know if he buys the same ones every day. Wouldn't it be great if he DID? And if his purchase that day had set me up for these two winners? That's $160 that I got, and he didn't!

I'm going to pretend that's how it happened. The chortle is starting again.

A Got-Val Moment

Darn that Even Steven! Just when Val was chortling with glee over beating White Truck Dude to HER rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Tuesday... the chortle stuck in her craw on Thursday, when the tables were turned.

It was 3:45 when I pulled onto the parking lot of the Gas Station Chicken Store. Running a bit later, because I had been in 10Box picking up the makings of my world-famous Chex Mix. From the stoplight, I could see a white vehicle was parked in that handicap space, with a red pickup truck parked beside it, not in a space, but in the opposite direction, as with two drivers shooting the bull.

Rounding the gas pumps and fighting the blinding sun, I put my visor down and realized it was THAT white truck parked in my handicap space. White Truck Dude must have seen me cussin' him as I looped past the diesel pumps and pulled in behind him. I was shocked to see a HANDICAP PLACARD dangling from the mirror of the red pickup truck!

I had assumed they were good ol' boys a-braggin' about their exploits. I secretly hoped that Red Truck Guy was giving White Truck Dude what-for about parking in that handicap space. After a few seconds, White Truck Dude started his vehicle, and Red Truck Guy drove out the back alley. His business must have already been concluded. Perhaps he had parked at the pumps for gas, and didn't need that space.

Anyhoo... I detest White Truck Dude SO MUCH! I could happily live the rest of my life without ever seeing him again. I wonder if he'd been inside for a long time, monopolizing that parking space while I was over at 10Box shopping. And if he was friends with Red Truck Guy, or getting a lecture on his rumpushole-iness.

A Gotcha Moment

You'll never guess what happened at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Tuesday. Or maybe you will. I was reunited with an old acquaintance.

WHITE TRUCK DUDE!

Heh, heh! I had arrived during my usual afternoon window, between 2:35 and 3:00. I cashed in a $50 winner for some tickets and cash. Talked a minute with Man Owner while the cashier was getting my scratchers. Turned to walk out, and came face-to-face with White Truck Dude. Oh, HE KNOWS! He knows that I know he is the rumpushole who parks in the handicap space every day. You could see it on his self-important mug when our eyes met.

As I rounded the corner of the building, there was his white truck, parked nose-to-nose with T-Hoe. Too bad, so sad that he had to park in the FREE AIR space this time. I was dying to snap a picture for your viewing pleasure, but there was a woman sitting in the passenger seat! Every other time, White Truck Dude has been alone. I resisted the photo op. It's not like she would jump out and try to take my phone away. But I have no issue with HER. She might not even know he parks there all the time. What's he gonna do, start complaining as he drives up: "There's that dang ample-rumpused old handicap lady parked in my space!"

Sweet, sweet revenge, even though it was purely a coincidence. Maybe he thought I'd been tattling on him to Man Owner, who is usually not out front during this time.

Apparently, The Pony Was Clompin' For a Chompin'

Here we go again. Just when I figured The Pony was home safe from work Monday, on our first snowy day, I got a text at 5:33.

"Home. Got bitten by a dog again. Right buttcheek this time."

"Nooo! Can I call?"

Permission granted, I got the details. 

"It was the last 20 minutes of my route. It's a house that always has their dog put up. I was taking them a package when the dog ran up behind me and bit my butt. It ran around to the back of the house after that. It's a medium-sized dog that looks like it might be part dalmatian. A girl came to the door. A daughter, I think. I said, 'Here's a package for you, and your dog just bit me.' She must have seen me coming, because she opened the door right up, and she was hollering at some guy, maybe a boyfriend or brother, to keep the dog in the house.

Since it's always inside, I figure SOMEBODY, probably that guy, just let it out to poop because it was so cold, and he didn't want to walk it on a leash. It tore two holes in my shorts with its teeth. Looks like only one tooth went all the way into my butt. I was pretty upset when I got back. This starts the whole dog thing all over again. Two managers were there. They said I had 24 hours to decide if I wanted to go to the doctor for it, but they won't force me to if I don't want to. I still have the antibiotic ointment from the last dog bite. She didn't mention shots, but they seem to take care of that dog, because it's always inside."

Poor Pony! Here is the initial picture right after it happened:

Lucky that more teeth didn't take hold!

I'd say those shorts are still wearable... 

At the risk of skipping down the road to Inappropriateville, I'm going to show the flesh wound. Don't worry, it's a tight closeup. Just try to forget where it's located!

Not too deep, The Pony says. A little oozy. Kind of painful, but no bruising yet.

Tuesday morning, post-shower, it was looking good enough:

"Morning butt update: it looks more like a single shallow gouge and a few pressure tears, rather than a deep puncture. Still not fun. A bit swollen, no bruising yet, but also I don't have my glasses on while looking. Some further pictures show a bit of a bruise starting and a weird divot, depending on how I am standing."

I got an update at 10:16. "It is thankfully not the load bearing part of my butt. The weight isn't directly on it when I sit in the Metris."

Backroads definitely has a dog problem. Hick says if the dog bit now, it's probably bitten before. I don't know about that. It would explain why they always keep the dog in the house, and it's not out roaming like the other predatory curs that make The Pony's work life a challenge.

The Pony would have been protected from this one, had he been carrying a big fat George Costanza wallet in his pocket!

Hick Is Itchin'

It's pretty clear that Hick is itchin' to start a new project. Monday morning, he called me with a proposal.

"I was in [one of our financial institutions] to get some money out of my account. And I saw Loan Officer. The one who gave us the loan to build our house, and to buy our rental duplex a while back. I asked if he had any houses coming up for sale, and he said yes. That there's one in School-Turn Town that will be ready sometime in February. While he was checking to make sure with his secretary,  she said, 'And there's one for sale on the courthouse steps at 1:00 today.' So I got the address, and I'm on my way over there now. He said the price they're starting at for bids is [redacted]."

"We can't really do that right now. Our money is tied up in the Double Hovel. Yeah, we could come up with that amount. But The Pony can't contribute half right now. Taxes are due, and insurance. It's really not convenient."

"Loan Officer said that the money is due TODAY, but that if I'm interested, he will go over there and let them know that I'm good for it. We could get a loan, and probably not have to put anything down, because we can use the flip house for collateral on the down payment."

"Still, it will take money to renovate the house, and The Pony's money is tied up. So I don't think this is the right property for us. Maybe the other one in February."

"He says that one is really rough."

"So it will be cheaper. And we will know about it in time to prepare. And maybe the Double Hovel will sell. At least we could buy it and take our time paying for the renovations."

"Okay. I'll call back and tell Loan Officer. He wanted me to let him know. I said I'd have to check with you."

"Yeah. I know you want to be buddies with him. But this is not a good deal RIGHT NOW for us. I'm not even telling The Pony, because I know he can't afford this."

"Yes. We'd have to put up all the money. So I'll call Loan Officer."

When Hick did that, the Loan Officer apologized, and said he had checked on it, and that the money WOULD be due at the time of the auction. So that's good to know. A good decision, because that would have been a lot of scrambling to get the money in such a short time.

Another deal will come along. We just don't know about it yet.

Travels With My Placard: Somebody Needs a Swift Kick in the Rumpus

There are everyday rumpusholes, and then there are hard-core rumpusholes. This guy needs a swift kick in the rumpus. With pointy-toed Italian shoes that some guy wore on Survivor one year, worth $1600, that got filled with sand and dumped into the ocean by another competitor.

Once again, Val's rightful handicap space was taken by the white pickup truck dude who has absolutely nothing wrong with him except being a rumpushole. I've lost track of how many times he has been parked in my handicap space. Here's the picture after I backed up to leave:

Sunday, I was approaching my rightful handicap space from the front, placard swinging from the mirror, when White Truck Dude shot in from the back alley and TOOK MY SPACE! Oh, he saw me coming. In fact, he was in such a hurry to steal my space that he parked crookedly! 

I looped around and pulled in behind. I know he saw me in the mirror. He sat there a few minutes. Then got out and went inside. I hobbled along, not sure if he would ever return. He has a way of drawing out his visits. Good thing I didn't wait. Inside, White Truck Dude was good-ol'-boying with Fave. He wanted a draw ticket, and she made him step aside to fill out the form for his numbers. 

Once I had made my purchases, I hobbled back outside to find an air-sucker blocking me in! Not really his fault, because he needed air, and I had needed to park in the space closest to the FREE AIR hose. Not that it's designated for such a purpose.

Anyhoo... I waited until Air Guy was done pumping. What else could I do? I couldn't ram into him with T-Hoe. And I couldn't get out forward because of Rumpushole White Truck Guy being parked crooked.

What excuses can "you people" (is that triggering?) make for White Truck Guy this time?

"Oh, Val. Were there markings showing it was a handicap space?"

"Val, you are just cranky in your old age."

"Not all handicaps are visible."

"Maybe he isn't from around there, and doesn't know it's a handicap space."

"He might have been in a hurry to use the bathroom."

"Maybe he was planning to only be in there for a few seconds."

NO! This guy knows exactly what he's doing! He SAW me heading for that space, with my placard swinging! He has no placard. No handicap plate. He does not belong in that space.

The Pony Is Running Out of Body Parts to Injure

Friday was one of our coldest days so far. Temps in the 30s, with a little wind. At least The Pony now drives a Metris on his route, rather than an LLV (Long Life Vehicle). The Metris has heat! Even so, The Pony is in and out, walking the streets. I suppose he felt a draft...

I got a text mid-morning, telling me that The Pony thought he might be out until 7:00. So I wouldn't worry. The day after Thanksgiving is quite busy at the post office. A little after 6:00, The Pony sent another text that he was home. With a little too much information afterwards.

"I stabbed myself in the butt trying to tuck my shirt back in earlier. Literally scratched enough to bleed a bit! I was shocked when I took a bathroom break and there was blood and the clear claw marks in the mirror!"

Thankfully, no pictures were included! I did not ask why The Pony was looking at his butt in the mirror.

In other news, I asked The Pony if his neighbors had a trash can, since he stole his back from under their porch a couple weeks ago.

"Yes. They have a NEW trash can. It has a SMOOTH sticker on the side, not the wrinkly one like mine from sitting out in the weather. I used a purple-colored marker to write my address on mine for now."

Well. I guess that incident will have no lasting repercussions.

A Filling Family Feastfest

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. FRIG II is groaning with leftovers. The Pony carted home a box full of food for warm-up meals after his upcoming two days of Not-Heaven delivering post-holiday mail.

Let's start with a picture of the first dish I prepared, on Wednesday. It's the roasted vegetables.

Mmmm. They made the kitchen smell delicious! All holiday-y. You can't see the baby carrots and wedges of onion underneath, but some potatoes are peeking through. I had to give the carrots some private time in the oven, to make sure they got done. The onions and potatoes are fine with the time it takes the bacon to cook. 

That's my big roaster pan. There was a smaller roaster pan filled the same way. Its entirety was shipped home with The Pony. He loves his "vinchtables." I start with a tablespoon or two of vegetable oil to coat the bottom and sides of the pan. Then pour in the baby carrots and toss them around. A drizzle of Worcestershire sauce, then I shake some powdered Hidden Valley Ranch dip over them. The carrots had about 45 minutes at 400 degrees. I cut up the onions and golden potatoes during that time. Then added them, with their own Worcestershire drizzle and dip powder. Laid the bacon slices across the top. Put the lid back on and baked for another half hour before flipping over the bacon and giving it 15 minutes more.

There's my plate. I also love those vegetables. And the 7 Layer Salad.

Hick needed a platter! He had stuff hanging off his plate. He and The Pony enjoy the Stove Top Stuffing. I am not a fan, but would eat it if there was nothing else. Hick had Wild Turkey and Shasta Diet Cola. Looks like bartender Pony forgot to top off the ice when Hick came to the table.

As usual, The Pony had his own pan of Sister Schubert's Rolls. He's a Breaderton as well as a Butterton. Kerrygold, of course. The Pony is no fan of peas, so made his own salad. That's from a bag mix, with red onion and shredded cheddar added. He forgot to dice the boiled egg, so had it on the side to take bites. The Pony makes little sandwiches with ham and cheese, using the rolls. He had Raspberry Tart wine, which smelled delicious. And a Sprite.

I didn't take a picture of the desserts. They were just from the grocery store display. We had quite a variety, half of which went home with The Pony. A "cherry pie" Danish for Hick. A selection of mini donuts. A triple chocolate cake. Some vanilla and chocolate mini cupcakes.

All this typing has worked up an appetite for some leftovers!