We know that chivalry is dead. Even if a man might think about being nice, holding the door open for a lady, he's hesitant these days. He doesn't want to be accused of patronizing her. Chastised for helping what he must assume is the weaker sex.
Common courtesy is on life support. It's unconscious, riddled with tubes, but still gasping, perhaps squeezing your hand every now and then. Old folks like us hope that common courtesy might recover, but those young whippersnappers are chanting to pull the plug. That's what my experience has been, within the last year.
One dude making his exit from Casey's ahead of me actually PUSHED THE DOOR CLOSED in my face as he went out, with me just a step behind him. Most of those young people just dart through a scant opening, like Indiana Jones escaping from a tomb. Then it's my own fault if I'm not quick enough to get out.
Friday, at The Gas Station Chicken Store, I was headed inside. I could see someone coming out the glass door. They could see me, too. It was one of those awkward moments. For me, anyway. If I'd been on the inside, I'd have been torn whether to step back and let the other person inside, or barge out to get out of the way. But I was on the outside, you see. So I pulled the door open, and held it, staying behind it, out of the way, so they could exit.
There were three of the coming-out-ers. Guys, mid-to-late twenties. Judging from their attire and the parking lot vehicles, they were a work crew with a utility company, headed for their white company truck.
NOT A SINGLE ONE NODDED OR SAID THANKS!
I don't do a common courtesy good deed for the thanks. I do it because it's the right thing to do. But it would be nice to be acknowledged.
Sheesh! So entitled! Or maybe just awkward with interpersonal communications, having been tied to cell phones for most of their existence. It's a sad day when an old lady holds a door open for three strapping young men, with no acknowledgement whatsoever. At least they didn't drop their chicken and push the door closed before I could go in!
I could imagine Genius, in one of his moods, playing devil's advocate, baiting me: "Why should I hold the door open for some woman? She has two arms, just like me. She's not handicapped. She can open her own door! I'm not her servant!"
Yeah, Genius might say that, although I've raised him better, and unlike The Pony, he cares about helping people. Even The Pony holds doors open for people!
Genius might say that, but he'd hold the door. He's a people-pleaser, as long as the people are not me and Hick.
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Monday, May 20, 2019
The Sunday Evening Misadventures of Hick and Val
Hick planned to grill some hot dogs for supper Sunday evening. He'd been at his Storage Unit Store all morning, stopped by Hick House to check on progress while he'd been away, come home to start filling Poolio, and mowed part of the yard that had grown back since he last mowed it three days ago.
However... I had looked up some properties that might interest Hick for flipping. I asked if he wanted to go look at them. Just drive by, notice the general condition, see if they might be worth the asking price. Of course Hick wanted to look at possible flippers! I had a list of ten. We knew where most of them were, but a couple had to be found with the Garmin.
I told Hick when we left that I had about an hour and a half for this excursion, since I'd been sipping Diet Coke all afternoon, and it would be making its exit. Hick scoffed. "Huh. This will only take about an hour." Still planning on grilling the hot dogs when we got home.
We saw one house that Hick thought worthy. It had a good roof, newer windows, and siding that didn't need replacement or repair. The neighborhood was good, with people out mowing their lawns. It's on a corner lot. Even better, it's in foreclosure! Sometimes the bank will cut their losses and take only what's owed. The only down side is that it's in a town that Hick's flipping buddies have told him is stricter on permits for renovations. So he's going to call and check on it. Let the record show that we are just in the "thinking about it" stage, and not planning to buy a flipper immediately.
Another house that caught Hick's eye was larger, and would need more work. But it was big enough to add a second bathroom. As Hick got out to look in the windows, he stuck his head back in A-Cad. "This one's not rented, it is? They might not like me peeping in the windows!" Heh, heh. It was NOT rented. Maybe the fact that there were NO curtains or shades on any of the windows would have been a clue for him. I ribbed him over that, until...
The next-to-last house was in my childhood neighborhood. Just down the street from my favorite gambling aunt's house. Again, a corner lot. Not in great shape, but a passable asphalt shingle roof, aluminum windows, and a big back yard. Hick actually went inside the enclosed front porch to peep in the house windows. When he was around back, a squirrel came up over the roof, jumped to a tree limb, and down onto the roof of the house next door. I guess he hadn't been expecting a visitor.
When Hick got back in A-Cad, he said, "It looked like someone was living in there! One room had clothes hanging, and a mattress!"
"The papers don't say it's rented..."
"Oh, it's not rented. That's the only room with anything in it!"
"Probably a squatter."
"I doubt that. It's probably something they left when they moved out."
"This house has been listed for over 400 days! I'm pretty sure people would have had time to get their stuff out. I think it's a squatter!"
"Well. You'd think they would have at least put up a curtain!"
"Yeah. Because that's what squatters do..."
We did not resolve that debate. Hick still likes the one house that's in good condition. It had a note taped on the door that said, "Do not occupy. Has not been inspected."
Anyhoo... this little flipper-house tour was now at 2.5 hours! It was 7:30. Hick said we'd pick up something for supper. He had wanted Chinese, but it takes about a half hour wait for the food. Besides, last time he went on a Sunday, it was closed. Hick thought that was just for Mother's Day, but he agreed to something faster. He chose Taco Bell. I'd just had taquitos for my lunch, but I agreed. He pulled into the drive-thru, and saw a sign taped to the menu: "We Are Out Of Beans and Sauce." Hick looked at me. Then turned to order two Burrito Supremes.
"Sir? We are out of beans. Do you still want a burrito?"
"No."
As we drove off, we could hear, "Sir? Sir?" I seriously doubt she was going to offer us anything free. You know. Because then they would run out of THAT. Hick was dumbfounded.
"How can you run a business and not have ingredients to make what you sell? Who wants a burrito without beans?"
So... we continued towards home, with Hick deciding that we would have Chinese food, since I agreed to try and wait. He was happy, because Chinese had been his first choice, but I still thought they'd be closed. Which they were!
That severely limited our options, since we were already in Backroads. The Gas Station Chicken Store only has chicken on the weekdays now, because they're still trying to hire cashiers and cooks. Country Mart's deli would only have "old food" left by 7:30 p.m. We didn't want pizza, so Domino's and Casey's were out. Dairy Queen had a packed parking lot. Hick decided on Hardee's chicken strips. Which are pretty tasty. So that was supper. With honey mustard sauce, of course.
However... I had looked up some properties that might interest Hick for flipping. I asked if he wanted to go look at them. Just drive by, notice the general condition, see if they might be worth the asking price. Of course Hick wanted to look at possible flippers! I had a list of ten. We knew where most of them were, but a couple had to be found with the Garmin.
I told Hick when we left that I had about an hour and a half for this excursion, since I'd been sipping Diet Coke all afternoon, and it would be making its exit. Hick scoffed. "Huh. This will only take about an hour." Still planning on grilling the hot dogs when we got home.
We saw one house that Hick thought worthy. It had a good roof, newer windows, and siding that didn't need replacement or repair. The neighborhood was good, with people out mowing their lawns. It's on a corner lot. Even better, it's in foreclosure! Sometimes the bank will cut their losses and take only what's owed. The only down side is that it's in a town that Hick's flipping buddies have told him is stricter on permits for renovations. So he's going to call and check on it. Let the record show that we are just in the "thinking about it" stage, and not planning to buy a flipper immediately.
Another house that caught Hick's eye was larger, and would need more work. But it was big enough to add a second bathroom. As Hick got out to look in the windows, he stuck his head back in A-Cad. "This one's not rented, it is? They might not like me peeping in the windows!" Heh, heh. It was NOT rented. Maybe the fact that there were NO curtains or shades on any of the windows would have been a clue for him. I ribbed him over that, until...
The next-to-last house was in my childhood neighborhood. Just down the street from my favorite gambling aunt's house. Again, a corner lot. Not in great shape, but a passable asphalt shingle roof, aluminum windows, and a big back yard. Hick actually went inside the enclosed front porch to peep in the house windows. When he was around back, a squirrel came up over the roof, jumped to a tree limb, and down onto the roof of the house next door. I guess he hadn't been expecting a visitor.
When Hick got back in A-Cad, he said, "It looked like someone was living in there! One room had clothes hanging, and a mattress!"
"The papers don't say it's rented..."
"Oh, it's not rented. That's the only room with anything in it!"
"Probably a squatter."
"I doubt that. It's probably something they left when they moved out."
"This house has been listed for over 400 days! I'm pretty sure people would have had time to get their stuff out. I think it's a squatter!"
"Well. You'd think they would have at least put up a curtain!"
"Yeah. Because that's what squatters do..."
We did not resolve that debate. Hick still likes the one house that's in good condition. It had a note taped on the door that said, "Do not occupy. Has not been inspected."
Anyhoo... this little flipper-house tour was now at 2.5 hours! It was 7:30. Hick said we'd pick up something for supper. He had wanted Chinese, but it takes about a half hour wait for the food. Besides, last time he went on a Sunday, it was closed. Hick thought that was just for Mother's Day, but he agreed to something faster. He chose Taco Bell. I'd just had taquitos for my lunch, but I agreed. He pulled into the drive-thru, and saw a sign taped to the menu: "We Are Out Of Beans and Sauce." Hick looked at me. Then turned to order two Burrito Supremes.
"Sir? We are out of beans. Do you still want a burrito?"
"No."
As we drove off, we could hear, "Sir? Sir?" I seriously doubt she was going to offer us anything free. You know. Because then they would run out of THAT. Hick was dumbfounded.
"How can you run a business and not have ingredients to make what you sell? Who wants a burrito without beans?"
So... we continued towards home, with Hick deciding that we would have Chinese food, since I agreed to try and wait. He was happy, because Chinese had been his first choice, but I still thought they'd be closed. Which they were!
That severely limited our options, since we were already in Backroads. The Gas Station Chicken Store only has chicken on the weekdays now, because they're still trying to hire cashiers and cooks. Country Mart's deli would only have "old food" left by 7:30 p.m. We didn't want pizza, so Domino's and Casey's were out. Dairy Queen had a packed parking lot. Hick decided on Hardee's chicken strips. Which are pretty tasty. So that was supper. With honey mustard sauce, of course.
Sunday, May 19, 2019
I'd Have Thought I Was Being Scammed for Being a Woman
Hick is starting to view the world in the eyes of the newly retired. Even though he's been retired for over a year. He made a lot of contacts in the working world. Was always getting free tickets to Cardinals or Blues games, and once for the St. Louis Rams. His boss put the kibosh on that, though. The boss thought it was not fair, and that such swag should be shared by all employees in the plant. So when such items arrived, addressed to Hick, they were taken, and a random drawing was held.
Hick was not really bitter about the new procedure. He's not one to dwell on such things. He did say that the company reps were not happy about it. "They say, 'We're sending them to YOU, not to some random hourly worker.' I'm the one who deals with them on a regular basis." Sure, there's the concept of kick-backs, and one hand washes the other. But Hick is not the type to be influenced by free gifts. He did business with the entities best suited for the company's needs. He also started getting things mailed to his home address, and not by his own request. I think my favorite was the two loaves of bread, blueberry and pumpkin, that we got every Christmas season.
Anyhoo... back when he was working, and we had a problem with our air conditioner/ furnace, the company we bought it from couldn't get here quick enough. A couple times, they didn't even charge us. That's what being a manager of facility maintenance can do for you. Yes, Hick did his work business with the same company. But nobody forced him to buy our air conditioner/furnace from that company when we built our house.
Thursday, our air conditioner wasn't rising to the occasion. As temperatures rose outside, so did they inside. It started when the electricity went off for 90 minutes. After that, our air conditioner couldn't seem to cool. Set at 74, it let the inside temp rise to 76. Once the sun went down, it cooled to 74 after a couple of hours. Hick went to look at the outside unit, and pronounced the coil to be "not-cold."
Let the record show that I've complained about this air conditioning/heating unit for years. It seems like we're always having a problem, and calling a service man. The one who showed up this time, I think known to Hick, said they haven't made a service call here in three years. That's a miracle, if accurate. That would mean we haven't had a problem since The Pony went off to college. That's how I measure time these days. Pony, and post-Pony.
I remember when we had a problem with the thermostat, and got a replacement. Also a time that the service man said there was a leak in the thing that holds the freon. A slow leak, he said. I'm not sure why it wasn't fixed, or a part replaced. Perhaps the cost would have been more than recharging with freon.
Let the record show that Hick was here for the service call (he missed his regular Friday afternoon bull session with his buddies), and that he accompanied the service man to the unit, and also brought him into the basement to check out the part that's inside. The diagnosis was low freon. Or perhaps NO freon.
It cost $481. That's $81 for the diagnostic service, and $400 for freon.
I guess that's only $133.33 per year. Not counting the service call.
Hick says we're lucky that they worked us in the next day. He'd only sent a text to his contact there on Thursday night, after hours. Good thing he cultivated those work relationships with people like himself.
Hick was not really bitter about the new procedure. He's not one to dwell on such things. He did say that the company reps were not happy about it. "They say, 'We're sending them to YOU, not to some random hourly worker.' I'm the one who deals with them on a regular basis." Sure, there's the concept of kick-backs, and one hand washes the other. But Hick is not the type to be influenced by free gifts. He did business with the entities best suited for the company's needs. He also started getting things mailed to his home address, and not by his own request. I think my favorite was the two loaves of bread, blueberry and pumpkin, that we got every Christmas season.
Anyhoo... back when he was working, and we had a problem with our air conditioner/ furnace, the company we bought it from couldn't get here quick enough. A couple times, they didn't even charge us. That's what being a manager of facility maintenance can do for you. Yes, Hick did his work business with the same company. But nobody forced him to buy our air conditioner/furnace from that company when we built our house.
Thursday, our air conditioner wasn't rising to the occasion. As temperatures rose outside, so did they inside. It started when the electricity went off for 90 minutes. After that, our air conditioner couldn't seem to cool. Set at 74, it let the inside temp rise to 76. Once the sun went down, it cooled to 74 after a couple of hours. Hick went to look at the outside unit, and pronounced the coil to be "not-cold."
Let the record show that I've complained about this air conditioning/heating unit for years. It seems like we're always having a problem, and calling a service man. The one who showed up this time, I think known to Hick, said they haven't made a service call here in three years. That's a miracle, if accurate. That would mean we haven't had a problem since The Pony went off to college. That's how I measure time these days. Pony, and post-Pony.
I remember when we had a problem with the thermostat, and got a replacement. Also a time that the service man said there was a leak in the thing that holds the freon. A slow leak, he said. I'm not sure why it wasn't fixed, or a part replaced. Perhaps the cost would have been more than recharging with freon.
Let the record show that Hick was here for the service call (he missed his regular Friday afternoon bull session with his buddies), and that he accompanied the service man to the unit, and also brought him into the basement to check out the part that's inside. The diagnosis was low freon. Or perhaps NO freon.
It cost $481. That's $81 for the diagnostic service, and $400 for freon.
I guess that's only $133.33 per year. Not counting the service call.
Hick says we're lucky that they worked us in the next day. He'd only sent a text to his contact there on Thursday night, after hours. Good thing he cultivated those work relationships with people like himself.
Saturday, May 18, 2019
One of Val's CENTSes Is On the Fritz
This week's path to Future Pennyillionaire was short. Truncated. A road nearly not taken.
TUESDAY, May 14, I thought it was off to a good start. I had to park at the opposite end of Orb K's lot. How dare people stop for their convenience needs when I was on the hunt! I'd no sooner stepped out of T-Hoe than I saw it.
Just past the sidewalk peninsula that separates parking from the drive-thru lane. Of course I dashed out there to rescue Ol' Abe.
From the looks of him looking up at me, I was too late. Yes, that's his face. I couldn't read the date, even with a magnifying glass. I'm guessing around 2014, from the shield design on his tail side.
When I came out of the store and climbed into T-Hoe, I couldn't believe my luck. I spied ANOTHER penny! I might need to park here more often.
See it there, in the corner of the curb? Near the left side of a triangle formed if you draw a line across those cigarette butts? Yeah. I thought I saw it, too. Went to the trouble of getting a picture. Two.
Turns out it wasn't a penny at all! It's hard to tell with the sun glinting off the screen of my phone. My first clue was when I couldn't pick it up. STUCK! And soft. You can bet I pantomimed picking something up and putting it in my pocket. For the benefit of the car at the drive-thru window. Wouldn't want anyone to think Val is crazy...
So I actually only found one penny this week, of indeterminable age. Better one than none! Maybe I even learned something. Like I might need new glasses. Or at least to wear my glasses.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 60.
Dime still at 8.
Nickel still at 7.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
TUESDAY, May 14, I thought it was off to a good start. I had to park at the opposite end of Orb K's lot. How dare people stop for their convenience needs when I was on the hunt! I'd no sooner stepped out of T-Hoe than I saw it.
Just past the sidewalk peninsula that separates parking from the drive-thru lane. Of course I dashed out there to rescue Ol' Abe.
From the looks of him looking up at me, I was too late. Yes, that's his face. I couldn't read the date, even with a magnifying glass. I'm guessing around 2014, from the shield design on his tail side.
When I came out of the store and climbed into T-Hoe, I couldn't believe my luck. I spied ANOTHER penny! I might need to park here more often.
See it there, in the corner of the curb? Near the left side of a triangle formed if you draw a line across those cigarette butts? Yeah. I thought I saw it, too. Went to the trouble of getting a picture. Two.
Turns out it wasn't a penny at all! It's hard to tell with the sun glinting off the screen of my phone. My first clue was when I couldn't pick it up. STUCK! And soft. You can bet I pantomimed picking something up and putting it in my pocket. For the benefit of the car at the drive-thru window. Wouldn't want anyone to think Val is crazy...
So I actually only found one penny this week, of indeterminable age. Better one than none! Maybe I even learned something. Like I might need new glasses. Or at least to wear my glasses.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 60.
Dime still at 8.
Nickel still at 7.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
Friday, May 17, 2019
Val Should Have Stayed In Bed, Perhaps Until Now
Some days, it doesn't pay to get out of bed at 6:40 a.m. Especially when you left a wake-up call for 7:00. And your waker upper further misleads you by justifying that it's really 6:50, which is almost 7:00.
There really should be parking spaces closer than the last row, when you arrive at 8:40 for your 9:15 doctor's appointment with a nurse practitioner. And the phlebotomist surely knows that she only needs to enter the vein, and not jab all the way through it, twist it around, and come back in on the other side. Plus, using my favorite color (she must be psychic) of lime green stretchy wrap does not negate the pain of her pokings, nor excuse the tiny scrap of gauze meant to staunch the torrent of my life fluid released by her gouging.
Yes, my day did not start out well, and it continued downhill from the third floor lab after my blood siphoning. I reached up to smooth my lovely lady mullet, and felt the hair on my crown (of my head, silly, but wouldn't it be fabulous if I actually wore a crown!) matted with a crispy substance. Huh. I guess the tick I plucked out of my hair the day before had actually chomped on my scalp before capture, and my morning shampoo had dislodged the healing scab, leaving my platelets and fibrin free rein to start over. It felt like they might actually be building me a crown!
I was able to stop by the bank without incident, and switch a ten for a roll of dimes, two rolls of pennies, and four ones. That correct change for my magical elixir isn't going to make itself.
From there it was on to Walmart, the suckiest place on earth. Only four out of 20 checkouts were open. I thought I had a good one. Only a lady already paying, and a couple behind her with three items. THREE ITEMS! However, the paying lady couldn't get her card to work. Or the next card. Or the next. I don't know if she wrote a check, or found a working card, but she was baffled by how to sign her name on the chip-reader thingy. So the man of the couple showed her. Meanwhile, I couldn't get to the conveyor with my multitude of items, because the couple did that thing Hick always tries when he goes with me. Meaning he goes ahead of the cart, and stands there to pay, while the empty cart and woman pushing it are in the way. Not out by the bag carousel where they should be. That little trip cost me an hour of my life that I'll never get back.
At the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was 5th in line to pay for my 44 oz Diet Coke. Everyone but an old feeble guy used their card in the chip reader, which takes three times as long as cash. AND the lady two ahead of me bought the two scratchers I had planned to get. So I switched, because I'm superstitious like that. Good for me! One of the new picks won me $15, and the other won me $25. I swear this was the high point of my day, cashing in a $15 winner and winning back $40. Although I didn't know it yet, because I don't scratch until I'm home, sitting in my lair with my beverage and lunch.
Which, had I only known, was going to be much later this day. I still thought my luck was on the upswing, though, because Hick was in the yard on the Gator when I got home, and came to carry in the groceries! I was so hot and tired that I sat down to chat with him after putting stuff away. He was in a hurry to get to town, but sat down to list the camper on some form of media for sale.
We had been chatting for only five minutes when the lights went all disco with a power about-to-be outage. Ain't that the way it goes? After 6.5 hours of Not-Heaven, our electricity went off at 1:10, when I was ready for a well-earned lunch after fasting all morning for the blood test and then errands. Did you know that our house is totally electric? No air conditioner. No water, because the well pump runs off electricity. No internet even for HIPPIE with a charge, because of the magical non-seen juju of the router. At least I knew I had a flush in each of the three toilets. Hick said I had two. Then he abandoned me for town, saying "Oh, well. They'll get it fixed sometime." You know what else doesn't work without electricity? The ice dispenser on the door of FRIG II.
I couldn't figure out how to text my electrical outage to Ameren Missouri. It kept saying their procedure had changed. So I called them, using the contact I'd had The Pony put in my phone, which Genius had ridiculed. They said 53 homes were without electricity, and it should be back on by 3:15. So I set about writing out six checks for $1699.20 each, to take to school to cover our health insurance premiums for the next six months. Have I mentioned that I don't trust the mail? And I sure don't want to drive over to school once a month. They keep the checks in a file, and take them out as they're due. My best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel taught me that trick.
At 2:20, I saw an Ameren truck drive up the gravel road. I called Hick, but can you believe he didn't want to chat with me? Even though I had nothing to do except wait to bake as the temperature rose to the 88 degrees that was the outside temperature. I sorted through our casino offers for an upcoming palooza. Then at 2:35 decided to go get my lunch ready and put limes in my 44 oz Diet Coke and be ready at the stroke of 3:15 to head down to the lair.
At 2:39, the power returned. So I wasted good electricity time getting my lunch ready. Oh, and of course when I tried to squirt out mayo for my sandwich, it gave a farty noise, and a gob plopped down onto my Croc. You know how a Croc has holes for ventilation? Apparently, they're actually magnets for blobs of mayo. Because that's where it landed. I slid my foot out, and the mayo was in a perfect circle on my black sock. So there was some cleaning up to do.
I had barely gotten New Delly fired up, and had not even gotten to my sandwich when Hick returned. He had led me to believe that he wouldn't be home until around 6:30 (by saying "I won't be home until around 6:30"). As you might imagine, I was a bit apprehensive about the footsteps I heard pounding down the stairs. I was in the NASCAR bathroom at the time, without the door closed, and wondering if I should holler, "HEY! Is that you?" Or try to be quiet and hope the thief would go into the workshop and try to carry off three safes bolted to the floor. I decided on the quiet route, and returned to my lair, where Hick found me and started babbling about something I don't recall because I wasn't really listening, since he had not wanted to talk to me on the phone when I had nothing better to do.
Anyhoo... I finally got those scratchers scratched, and thought the bad luck was over, until I went upstairs at 6:30 to make Hick some supper. That's when I noticed it was awfully hot, and saw that the thermostat said the house was 76 degrees, even though the air conditioner was set for 74. Hick went out and checked the unit (heh, heh), and said the coil wasn't cool, and we probably need freon or coolant or something that is regulated and he can't do. So he's calling the cooling people to see if they can come Friday.
Of course Hick is never home on Friday. He is taking This Guy to his back therapy, and then going to his Storage Unit Store, and then to his weekly doctor appointment, and then driving around to shoot the bull with his buddies like he does every Friday. So I guess I'm stuck letting in the cooling guy.
Yeah. It doesn't pay to get up at 6:40 a.m., unless you count $40 as good compensation for a series of unfortunate events. I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing that woman from the Gas Station Chicken Store on the news for winning the top prize on one of those two tickets I had planned on getting...
There really should be parking spaces closer than the last row, when you arrive at 8:40 for your 9:15 doctor's appointment with a nurse practitioner. And the phlebotomist surely knows that she only needs to enter the vein, and not jab all the way through it, twist it around, and come back in on the other side. Plus, using my favorite color (she must be psychic) of lime green stretchy wrap does not negate the pain of her pokings, nor excuse the tiny scrap of gauze meant to staunch the torrent of my life fluid released by her gouging.
Yes, my day did not start out well, and it continued downhill from the third floor lab after my blood siphoning. I reached up to smooth my lovely lady mullet, and felt the hair on my crown (of my head, silly, but wouldn't it be fabulous if I actually wore a crown!) matted with a crispy substance. Huh. I guess the tick I plucked out of my hair the day before had actually chomped on my scalp before capture, and my morning shampoo had dislodged the healing scab, leaving my platelets and fibrin free rein to start over. It felt like they might actually be building me a crown!
I was able to stop by the bank without incident, and switch a ten for a roll of dimes, two rolls of pennies, and four ones. That correct change for my magical elixir isn't going to make itself.
From there it was on to Walmart, the suckiest place on earth. Only four out of 20 checkouts were open. I thought I had a good one. Only a lady already paying, and a couple behind her with three items. THREE ITEMS! However, the paying lady couldn't get her card to work. Or the next card. Or the next. I don't know if she wrote a check, or found a working card, but she was baffled by how to sign her name on the chip-reader thingy. So the man of the couple showed her. Meanwhile, I couldn't get to the conveyor with my multitude of items, because the couple did that thing Hick always tries when he goes with me. Meaning he goes ahead of the cart, and stands there to pay, while the empty cart and woman pushing it are in the way. Not out by the bag carousel where they should be. That little trip cost me an hour of my life that I'll never get back.
At the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was 5th in line to pay for my 44 oz Diet Coke. Everyone but an old feeble guy used their card in the chip reader, which takes three times as long as cash. AND the lady two ahead of me bought the two scratchers I had planned to get. So I switched, because I'm superstitious like that. Good for me! One of the new picks won me $15, and the other won me $25. I swear this was the high point of my day, cashing in a $15 winner and winning back $40. Although I didn't know it yet, because I don't scratch until I'm home, sitting in my lair with my beverage and lunch.
Which, had I only known, was going to be much later this day. I still thought my luck was on the upswing, though, because Hick was in the yard on the Gator when I got home, and came to carry in the groceries! I was so hot and tired that I sat down to chat with him after putting stuff away. He was in a hurry to get to town, but sat down to list the camper on some form of media for sale.
We had been chatting for only five minutes when the lights went all disco with a power about-to-be outage. Ain't that the way it goes? After 6.5 hours of Not-Heaven, our electricity went off at 1:10, when I was ready for a well-earned lunch after fasting all morning for the blood test and then errands. Did you know that our house is totally electric? No air conditioner. No water, because the well pump runs off electricity. No internet even for HIPPIE with a charge, because of the magical non-seen juju of the router. At least I knew I had a flush in each of the three toilets. Hick said I had two. Then he abandoned me for town, saying "Oh, well. They'll get it fixed sometime." You know what else doesn't work without electricity? The ice dispenser on the door of FRIG II.
I couldn't figure out how to text my electrical outage to Ameren Missouri. It kept saying their procedure had changed. So I called them, using the contact I'd had The Pony put in my phone, which Genius had ridiculed. They said 53 homes were without electricity, and it should be back on by 3:15. So I set about writing out six checks for $1699.20 each, to take to school to cover our health insurance premiums for the next six months. Have I mentioned that I don't trust the mail? And I sure don't want to drive over to school once a month. They keep the checks in a file, and take them out as they're due. My best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel taught me that trick.
At 2:20, I saw an Ameren truck drive up the gravel road. I called Hick, but can you believe he didn't want to chat with me? Even though I had nothing to do except wait to bake as the temperature rose to the 88 degrees that was the outside temperature. I sorted through our casino offers for an upcoming palooza. Then at 2:35 decided to go get my lunch ready and put limes in my 44 oz Diet Coke and be ready at the stroke of 3:15 to head down to the lair.
At 2:39, the power returned. So I wasted good electricity time getting my lunch ready. Oh, and of course when I tried to squirt out mayo for my sandwich, it gave a farty noise, and a gob plopped down onto my Croc. You know how a Croc has holes for ventilation? Apparently, they're actually magnets for blobs of mayo. Because that's where it landed. I slid my foot out, and the mayo was in a perfect circle on my black sock. So there was some cleaning up to do.
I had barely gotten New Delly fired up, and had not even gotten to my sandwich when Hick returned. He had led me to believe that he wouldn't be home until around 6:30 (by saying "I won't be home until around 6:30"). As you might imagine, I was a bit apprehensive about the footsteps I heard pounding down the stairs. I was in the NASCAR bathroom at the time, without the door closed, and wondering if I should holler, "HEY! Is that you?" Or try to be quiet and hope the thief would go into the workshop and try to carry off three safes bolted to the floor. I decided on the quiet route, and returned to my lair, where Hick found me and started babbling about something I don't recall because I wasn't really listening, since he had not wanted to talk to me on the phone when I had nothing better to do.
Anyhoo... I finally got those scratchers scratched, and thought the bad luck was over, until I went upstairs at 6:30 to make Hick some supper. That's when I noticed it was awfully hot, and saw that the thermostat said the house was 76 degrees, even though the air conditioner was set for 74. Hick went out and checked the unit (heh, heh), and said the coil wasn't cool, and we probably need freon or coolant or something that is regulated and he can't do. So he's calling the cooling people to see if they can come Friday.
Of course Hick is never home on Friday. He is taking This Guy to his back therapy, and then going to his Storage Unit Store, and then to his weekly doctor appointment, and then driving around to shoot the bull with his buddies like he does every Friday. So I guess I'm stuck letting in the cooling guy.
Yeah. It doesn't pay to get up at 6:40 a.m., unless you count $40 as good compensation for a series of unfortunate events. I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing that woman from the Gas Station Chicken Store on the news for winning the top prize on one of those two tickets I had planned on getting...
Thursday, May 16, 2019
THIS Old House was $17,000
Way back in 1988, when I bought my first house, I found a bargain. There was a little old lady living in it, and she was moving across town. I lived in a townhouse at an apartment complex, where I met Hick. He just had a one-bedroom apartment there. Hick's a simple kind of guy.
The $17,000 house is just up the street from Hick House. I took a picture of the downhill side the other day. Every time I drive by, it makes me sad. It has fallen into such disrepair that it's probably just worth $17,000 again, even though we sold it for $44,000, I think.
Doesn't that poor thing make you want to weep? The gutters are going to come clanging down any day now. They've even boarded up the basement windows that were one of my reasons for wanting this house! That's a walk-out basement. The part on the back was originally a detached shed, but Hick turned it into a bedroom. There's an entryway between it and the main house, with a door to the driveway. Convenient for carrying in groceries and a baby.
The little window is over the kitchen sink. The big windows are in the bedroom. This is a double corner lot. There used to be a big tree near the stop sign. To the right, out of frame, is an alley where we got the bricks for our current sidewalk Hick built out front. Those bricks were slick as snot in the snow and ice! That's the way I usually came in, to get to the driveway. The city dug up those bricks and piled them all willy-nilly, when they decided to blacktop the alley. They were free for the taking.
Every time I tried to get a picture of the front of the house, there was a truck parked there. But Hick got me a picture, out the window of SilverRedO.
We had put on all new siding. The basement and window trim was painted Battleship Gray. I still remember going through the paint sample cards to decide. We didn't have that ridiculous little trellis thingy. Our porch was cedar, the natural cedar color, as was the front of the house around the door. As you can see, that's not vinyl siding. It was cedar. Like an accent wall thing. Hick built the porch rails, which were also cedar color.
The bumped-out part on the left of the porch is an addition to the living room we made for a computer nook. It has an octagon window that you can't see. The front door is the one we put in, with a glass storm door for winter, changed to screen for the summer.
That big bushy plant used to be my LILAC BUSH! I actually had two, the dark purple flowers and the light purple flowers. As well as two big rose bushes. Not that I have a green thumb. They were there when I bought the house. The driveway is just on the left of that big bushy thing. It goes all the way through to the alley in back. Very handy for not having to move a car to let the other one out.
Anyhoo... way back then, I had Hick take a look at this $17,000 house with me. He's the one who recommended my real estate agent. I knew Hick would fix up that house for me. For FREE! He's a giver like that. So... I bought the house. Hick updated the wiring, made some improvements in the bathroom, and started looking at what I could do with the basement. Hick must have really liked that house, because he proposed to me before the end of the school year, and we were married by Thanksgiving.
The first major project was building a room for Little HOS (Hick's Oldest Son), and Little Future Veteran, who were 9 and 7 years old. The house had only one bedroom, and the boys would be there alternate weekends, and in the summer. Hick put up a wall in the basement, and built in bunk beds. It was on the back yard side of the basement, under the kitchen.
Even though they had to share their room with the washer and dryer, the boys loved it. It had black-and-white checked tile, like a NASCAR winner's flag, and the bunks were bright red. Hick could have built their room to exclude the washer and dryer, but it would have been smaller, and without windows. I think he made the best design choice. Besides, it's not like I did laundry while they were in their room.
The rest of the basement was what the boys called their "apartment." It had a couch and chairs and a coffee table and TV with Nintendo. They had a wild time down there, playing with loud toys that didn't roll on the carpet upstairs. I can't thank my grandma enough for giving them those toys...
Eventually, Hick gutted an old shed on the back of the house, and made it into our master bedroom. Baby Genius arrived, and took the old bedroom upstairs. The big boys were by now 14 and 12, and weren't about to move upstairs. Not when they had their own apartment!
Sometime between the basement project and the added master bedroom, Hick totally re-did the kitchen. I know the boys were with us when we picked out cabinets, because the three of us sighed so much that we could have shriveled up like deflated balloons. Of course Hick was having a blast, roaming around in Central Hardware and Hoods (probably a local chain). I think he almost cried when Central Hardware went out of business. I don't know if he has the same attachment to Lowe's.
I hope HOS enjoys his $5000 house as much as we enjoyed the $17,000 house.
The $17,000 house is just up the street from Hick House. I took a picture of the downhill side the other day. Every time I drive by, it makes me sad. It has fallen into such disrepair that it's probably just worth $17,000 again, even though we sold it for $44,000, I think.
Doesn't that poor thing make you want to weep? The gutters are going to come clanging down any day now. They've even boarded up the basement windows that were one of my reasons for wanting this house! That's a walk-out basement. The part on the back was originally a detached shed, but Hick turned it into a bedroom. There's an entryway between it and the main house, with a door to the driveway. Convenient for carrying in groceries and a baby.
The little window is over the kitchen sink. The big windows are in the bedroom. This is a double corner lot. There used to be a big tree near the stop sign. To the right, out of frame, is an alley where we got the bricks for our current sidewalk Hick built out front. Those bricks were slick as snot in the snow and ice! That's the way I usually came in, to get to the driveway. The city dug up those bricks and piled them all willy-nilly, when they decided to blacktop the alley. They were free for the taking.
Every time I tried to get a picture of the front of the house, there was a truck parked there. But Hick got me a picture, out the window of SilverRedO.
We had put on all new siding. The basement and window trim was painted Battleship Gray. I still remember going through the paint sample cards to decide. We didn't have that ridiculous little trellis thingy. Our porch was cedar, the natural cedar color, as was the front of the house around the door. As you can see, that's not vinyl siding. It was cedar. Like an accent wall thing. Hick built the porch rails, which were also cedar color.
The bumped-out part on the left of the porch is an addition to the living room we made for a computer nook. It has an octagon window that you can't see. The front door is the one we put in, with a glass storm door for winter, changed to screen for the summer.
That big bushy plant used to be my LILAC BUSH! I actually had two, the dark purple flowers and the light purple flowers. As well as two big rose bushes. Not that I have a green thumb. They were there when I bought the house. The driveway is just on the left of that big bushy thing. It goes all the way through to the alley in back. Very handy for not having to move a car to let the other one out.
Anyhoo... way back then, I had Hick take a look at this $17,000 house with me. He's the one who recommended my real estate agent. I knew Hick would fix up that house for me. For FREE! He's a giver like that. So... I bought the house. Hick updated the wiring, made some improvements in the bathroom, and started looking at what I could do with the basement. Hick must have really liked that house, because he proposed to me before the end of the school year, and we were married by Thanksgiving.
The first major project was building a room for Little HOS (Hick's Oldest Son), and Little Future Veteran, who were 9 and 7 years old. The house had only one bedroom, and the boys would be there alternate weekends, and in the summer. Hick put up a wall in the basement, and built in bunk beds. It was on the back yard side of the basement, under the kitchen.
Even though they had to share their room with the washer and dryer, the boys loved it. It had black-and-white checked tile, like a NASCAR winner's flag, and the bunks were bright red. Hick could have built their room to exclude the washer and dryer, but it would have been smaller, and without windows. I think he made the best design choice. Besides, it's not like I did laundry while they were in their room.
The rest of the basement was what the boys called their "apartment." It had a couch and chairs and a coffee table and TV with Nintendo. They had a wild time down there, playing with loud toys that didn't roll on the carpet upstairs. I can't thank my grandma enough for giving them those toys...
Eventually, Hick gutted an old shed on the back of the house, and made it into our master bedroom. Baby Genius arrived, and took the old bedroom upstairs. The big boys were by now 14 and 12, and weren't about to move upstairs. Not when they had their own apartment!
Sometime between the basement project and the added master bedroom, Hick totally re-did the kitchen. I know the boys were with us when we picked out cabinets, because the three of us sighed so much that we could have shriveled up like deflated balloons. Of course Hick was having a blast, roaming around in Central Hardware and Hoods (probably a local chain). I think he almost cried when Central Hardware went out of business. I don't know if he has the same attachment to Lowe's.
I hope HOS enjoys his $5000 house as much as we enjoyed the $17,000 house.
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
Hick House Bedroom: Window 05-09-19
OH NO HE DIDN'T!
Seriously. He really didn't. Hick brought that pair of window-paned doors home, and leaned them against the garage, along with the old front door, and an interior door that he replaced. I saw them with my own eyes, before he stored them in the Freight Container Garage.
Yes, Hick sometimes knows what's good for him. He told me, before he put in this very-similar door-window, that he had found ANOTHER window-paned door over in the BARn. One he'd forgotten about, which was just a single door. So he figured it wouldn't hurt to cut it up and turn it into a window. Hick was really in love with that unopenable door-window idea.
Here it is from inside. Hick's other option was to build in a window air conditioner, and close up the rest of the opening. He said if it was HIS bedroom, he'd much rather have a window to look out on the porch and front yard. So now there's a window.
Hick also said there had been a fire in Hick House, and that's what the mess is in the ceiling. He didn't know if it was wiring, or what, but that the water damage came from fighting the fire. And that there was also smoke damage on the paint/wallpaper, which is why the walls had been all yellowed. No worries about an electrical fire in the future, since Hick replaced all the wiring.
HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) scraped the ceiling of the master bedroom this week. Hick and HOS bought drywall for the ceiling, which HOS is putting up, with assistance from a buddy. Hick doesn't want to be on a ladder trying to hold drywall with his PopArm. He took some drywall screws over for HOS last evening. HOS is kind of nocturnal, like me. He's also got a buddy coming to help finish the plumbing.
I don't know if Hick House will be ready on Hick's original timeline of June 1. He says we'll keep the electric in our name until July 1, but after that, HOS takes over the upkeep of Hick House. Once the inspector comes and approves habitability, they'll get the water turned on in HOS's name. They've already been catching rainwater in a bucket, and using it to flush the toilet. So that part of the plumbing is operational.
Not long now, until HOS has himself a house for life, loan-payment-and-rent-free!
Seriously. He really didn't. Hick brought that pair of window-paned doors home, and leaned them against the garage, along with the old front door, and an interior door that he replaced. I saw them with my own eyes, before he stored them in the Freight Container Garage.
Yes, Hick sometimes knows what's good for him. He told me, before he put in this very-similar door-window, that he had found ANOTHER window-paned door over in the BARn. One he'd forgotten about, which was just a single door. So he figured it wouldn't hurt to cut it up and turn it into a window. Hick was really in love with that unopenable door-window idea.
Here it is from inside. Hick's other option was to build in a window air conditioner, and close up the rest of the opening. He said if it was HIS bedroom, he'd much rather have a window to look out on the porch and front yard. So now there's a window.
Hick also said there had been a fire in Hick House, and that's what the mess is in the ceiling. He didn't know if it was wiring, or what, but that the water damage came from fighting the fire. And that there was also smoke damage on the paint/wallpaper, which is why the walls had been all yellowed. No worries about an electrical fire in the future, since Hick replaced all the wiring.
HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) scraped the ceiling of the master bedroom this week. Hick and HOS bought drywall for the ceiling, which HOS is putting up, with assistance from a buddy. Hick doesn't want to be on a ladder trying to hold drywall with his PopArm. He took some drywall screws over for HOS last evening. HOS is kind of nocturnal, like me. He's also got a buddy coming to help finish the plumbing.
I don't know if Hick House will be ready on Hick's original timeline of June 1. He says we'll keep the electric in our name until July 1, but after that, HOS takes over the upkeep of Hick House. Once the inspector comes and approves habitability, they'll get the water turned on in HOS's name. They've already been catching rainwater in a bucket, and using it to flush the toilet. So that part of the plumbing is operational.
Not long now, until HOS has himself a house for life, loan-payment-and-rent-free!
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