The citizens and denizens of Backroads were released from Stay-At-Home-Down this week! AND Hick went away to tote The Pony back home from college. As you might imagine, Val's dreams had come true!
Off I went to Walmart on Wednesday, to fetch the items Hick did not. Can't fault him specifically, other than choosing his shopping day as the Sunday of the first weekend of the month, and the very day that Stay-At-Home-Down ended. Not that my sortie was any better. Oh, I got the items I needed. But the experience was a disappointment. It was almost as if T-Hoe had become the U.S.S. Minnow for my three-hour tour. Three-hour tour...
First cat out of the bag, I saw TREE WORK on the road into town. Huh. I made a quick left to avoid it, taking the route past Mick the Mechanic's shop, and the bowling alley (now open!). I made a mental note to avoid that section of road on the way home, after my 44 oz Diet Coke.
I stopped by the cemetery. I'd just put down the window for a short chat, when a small gray SUV came up behind me. Can you believe it? Of ALL the dear departeds they could visit, in the seven sections of that cemetery, plus the two mausoleums... they had to choose one right by where I was visiting! Sheesh! Some people missed the memo that IT'S ALL ABOUT ME!
I found a good parking spot at Walmart, second from the end. I snatched a cart off the sidewalk between the doors, since it had obviously been baking in the ultraviolet light, and was therefore disinfected. However... my decision to enter at the pharmacy end of the store was not so great after all. I had to wheel that cart about a half mile (perhaps I exaggerate a tad) to get past the 10+ cattle gates wired together to make a waiting corral for shoppers. None were waiting, but I still had to detour as if going through a line for the log flume at Silver Dollar City.
Once inside, I minded my Ps and Qs. I followed the directional markings on the floor, and backed down the aisles where I needed something close to the end. Oh, what a fool I was, obeying the floor-tile rules! So many wrong-way Corrigans! I'm sure it's the same people who always play chicken with me by going out the IN door, and in the OUT door.
I found the Pepcid that Hick did not. Of course all the EQUATE brand was gone, but there were still the brand-name bottles at twice the price. And in assorted flavors and sizes. I got one bottle, mint flavor, just in case there's a shortage when mine run out. I also found my Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade powder drink mix that Hick said was unavailable. I got 4 canisters. Not that I'm hoarding...
The worst part of the ordeal was when I had to go slowly down the aisle next to the mayonnaise aisle, just to obey store traffic and reach my Kraft Mayonnaise. I was slow, to avoid the guy and gal going the WRONG way, looking at coffee or something. While going slow, a ridiculously self-important woman talking on her cell phone (show-off, with a working phone!) ran up behind me, and COUGHED! That gave me the heebie-jeebies, and I'm not even panicked about this VIRUS. No mask on her, of course.
The next worst part of the ordeal was after I got The Pony's requested Skittles, plus a bonus box of Whoppers (he loves them, but calls them Whompers), and was trying to exit that aisle. One of those bin-pushing store shoppers almost took the front end off my cart. I yanked it back like that dog-walker yanked his pet when Clark Griswold fell asleep behind the wheel of the Family Truckster in Vacation. During my yanking, I popped something in my right knee. I barely made it to the checkout. Where I found a penny, and the dude behind me tried to ram my ample rumpus with his cart.
Whew! I survived the shopping, and was off to fetch my magical elixir. But then I forgot about the tree-trimmers until I'd already taken the regular route. I noticed the road signs in time, and turned right to drive by the elementary school behind the bowling alley. Of course there was a crew digging up a ditch for about 3/4 mile. Sometimes I can't win for losing.
I finally made it home, $150 poorer. I don't know how I spent that much, filling only about 1/3 of the cart! When I go to Save A Lot and Country Mart during the week, it's only $30-$40 each place.
At least there were no squatters at the creach.
Thursday, May 7, 2020
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Hick Handy to the Rescue
Monday evening, a little storm rolled through. I guess Hick was oblivious to it, since he was OUT IN IT on the way to find a part for a hose on Poolio. He said he put some chemicals in Poolio, then went to mow the yard, and when he came back, a hose had come loose, and was shooting into the air like a fountain. Not that it matters. We're in the country. Poolio is in the back yard. Nothing to damage.
Anyhoo...we had that chat with me leaning over the back porch rail, talking down 16 feet to Hick on the ground. It had just started to sprinkle. Clouds were darkening. About a half hour later, New Delly went mute and paralyzed. I got the yellow triangle of annoyance in my internet icon. Meh. I could still listen to music and read what I had on screen already.
Hick returned. I made him Poor Man's Chicken and Dumplings for supper. It's one of his favorites. Two cans chicken broth, two cans cream of chicken soup, 10 (8-inch) flour tortillas cut into dumpling sizes, two cans of white meat chicken. I add some minced garlic, a little butter, and grind in some black pepper. You bring the liquids to a boil, stir in the tortilla dumplings (keep stirring!) and let them boil for 5 minutes. Then remove from heat and stir in the chicken. VOILA! Chicken and dumplings! Actually, that makes A LOT! It would be two meals for Hick and Genius, who are big eaters.
Anyhoo...I was sitting on the short couch while Hick ate his supper in the La-Z-Boy. He had just set down his bowl when his phone made that NEW TEXT noise. Hick picked up his phone, and SQUEALED. Or maybe EXCLAIMED. So he squealaimed. Or exealed. It was a funny noise. I couldn't tell if he was excited about some junk for sale, or shocked that someone had died.
"Look at this! It just happened! It's the house where you turn off, when we come the other way because the bridge is flooded."
"I know where you're talking about. But that house is brick."
"No. Well, yeah. But this is the SECOND house. Right next to it. I know the guy who lives there."
"That's terrible, with everything going on. It will be a pain to get someone to fix it. I guess it happened when that storm went through while you were in town."
"I hope they're not in it! My buddy says it just happened. I'm going over there to check."
"Wait! Don't be lifting any trees! Don't go inside and let something fall on you!"
"I won't. I just want to make sure him and his wife are okay. They might need some help carrying some stuff out."
Off he went. Hick Handy to the rescue. He was only gone about 15 minutes.
"They must have had 8 strapping young boys there, carrying stuff out. I don't know who it was, but some crew was already helping them."
It's the thought that counts. Just like Hick's thoughts when he built our house: "I didn't want no trees around it that could fall on it."
Anyhoo...we had that chat with me leaning over the back porch rail, talking down 16 feet to Hick on the ground. It had just started to sprinkle. Clouds were darkening. About a half hour later, New Delly went mute and paralyzed. I got the yellow triangle of annoyance in my internet icon. Meh. I could still listen to music and read what I had on screen already.
Hick returned. I made him Poor Man's Chicken and Dumplings for supper. It's one of his favorites. Two cans chicken broth, two cans cream of chicken soup, 10 (8-inch) flour tortillas cut into dumpling sizes, two cans of white meat chicken. I add some minced garlic, a little butter, and grind in some black pepper. You bring the liquids to a boil, stir in the tortilla dumplings (keep stirring!) and let them boil for 5 minutes. Then remove from heat and stir in the chicken. VOILA! Chicken and dumplings! Actually, that makes A LOT! It would be two meals for Hick and Genius, who are big eaters.
Anyhoo...I was sitting on the short couch while Hick ate his supper in the La-Z-Boy. He had just set down his bowl when his phone made that NEW TEXT noise. Hick picked up his phone, and SQUEALED. Or maybe EXCLAIMED. So he squealaimed. Or exealed. It was a funny noise. I couldn't tell if he was excited about some junk for sale, or shocked that someone had died.
"Look at this! It just happened! It's the house where you turn off, when we come the other way because the bridge is flooded."
"I know where you're talking about. But that house is brick."
"No. Well, yeah. But this is the SECOND house. Right next to it. I know the guy who lives there."
"That's terrible, with everything going on. It will be a pain to get someone to fix it. I guess it happened when that storm went through while you were in town."
"I hope they're not in it! My buddy says it just happened. I'm going over there to check."
"Wait! Don't be lifting any trees! Don't go inside and let something fall on you!"
"I won't. I just want to make sure him and his wife are okay. They might need some help carrying some stuff out."
Off he went. Hick Handy to the rescue. He was only gone about 15 minutes.
"They must have had 8 strapping young boys there, carrying stuff out. I don't know who it was, but some crew was already helping them."
It's the thought that counts. Just like Hick's thoughts when he built our house: "I didn't want no trees around it that could fall on it."
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
Hick Is a Craftly Old Codger
I recently sent Hick on a mission to Walmart, armed with a list on a 3 x 5 note card (nothing ambiguous about my writing) and four phone photos of individual items. This is not the time to discuss the
"I haven't been to Walmart for a long time. Maybe once, since we came back from our birthday visit with The Pony in February. And not at all since they started counting how many people they let in."
"Yeah. I don't think they do that now. But they DO have arrows on the floor, telling you which way you can go down the aisles."
"That's a pain. It would affect how I make my list."
"It's crazy!"
"Did you follow the arrows?"
"Yes. Well. Kind of. Heh, heh. If there was something I wanted at the end of an aisle, no way was I gonna go all the way down the next one, and come back up to it! I just turned my cart around, and backed down that aisle!"
"Heh, heh! So you LOOKED like you were going the right way."
"Uh huh. Nobody said nothin' to me. So I guess it worked."
You gotta hand it to Hick. He IS good at thinking outside the box when it comes to finding solutions to things that thwart him getting his way.
"I haven't been to Walmart for a long time. Maybe once, since we came back from our birthday visit with The Pony in February. And not at all since they started counting how many people they let in."
"Yeah. I don't think they do that now. But they DO have arrows on the floor, telling you which way you can go down the aisles."
"That's a pain. It would affect how I make my list."
"It's crazy!"
"Did you follow the arrows?"
"Yes. Well. Kind of. Heh, heh. If there was something I wanted at the end of an aisle, no way was I gonna go all the way down the next one, and come back up to it! I just turned my cart around, and backed down that aisle!"
"Heh, heh! So you LOOKED like you were going the right way."
"Uh huh. Nobody said nothin' to me. So I guess it worked."
You gotta hand it to Hick. He IS good at thinking outside the box when it comes to finding solutions to things that thwart him getting his way.
Monday, May 4, 2020
Exhibit #372 of Why Backroads Can't Have Nice Things
Maybe I should change the "nice" to "state government decreed for safety."
Over the past year, the STOP sign where our blacktop county road enters the blacktop state lettered highway...has been deteriorating. And it's not due to weather!
I can't even count the bullet holes. I don't have enough fingers and toes. Most disturbing is the BACKGROUND of this taboo target. IT'S A FREAKIN' HIGHWAY! Where cars drive by! Sure, the bullets will probably go over the sedans and the illegal side-by-sides. But anybody in an SUV or truck could be in the line of fire! That STOP sign is now like Robert Duvall as Lucky Ned Pepper in the original True Grit, who said, "Rooster, I'm shot to pieces."
The bright 1:00 sun does not do justice to the bullet holes. At first, maybe after the first five appeared, I was willing to give the shooter the benefit of the doubt. Not for the careless nose-thumbing to safety, but to the intent. I believed, as Hick postulated, that perhaps it was somebody sighting in his gun. From the slight rise further back, before that section of road reaches the STOP sign. But seriously. How many guns would a person need to have, or how bad must their sighting talents be, to put THIS MANY holes in the STOP sign?
At least my new used iPhone 8 held onto this picture so you'd believe it happened. This is two miles from Mailbox Row. Anybody doing this has driven by our creek area. No other turn-off until they get here. I'm pretty sure it's not somebody who lives in between. Since they have acreage to use for "sighting in a gun."
Seems more like mischief to me. But as long as this STOP sign is here, they're not shooting at our mailboxes or the Bus-Waiting Shack.
Over the past year, the STOP sign where our blacktop county road enters the blacktop state lettered highway...has been deteriorating. And it's not due to weather!
I can't even count the bullet holes. I don't have enough fingers and toes. Most disturbing is the BACKGROUND of this taboo target. IT'S A FREAKIN' HIGHWAY! Where cars drive by! Sure, the bullets will probably go over the sedans and the illegal side-by-sides. But anybody in an SUV or truck could be in the line of fire! That STOP sign is now like Robert Duvall as Lucky Ned Pepper in the original True Grit, who said, "Rooster, I'm shot to pieces."
The bright 1:00 sun does not do justice to the bullet holes. At first, maybe after the first five appeared, I was willing to give the shooter the benefit of the doubt. Not for the careless nose-thumbing to safety, but to the intent. I believed, as Hick postulated, that perhaps it was somebody sighting in his gun. From the slight rise further back, before that section of road reaches the STOP sign. But seriously. How many guns would a person need to have, or how bad must their sighting talents be, to put THIS MANY holes in the STOP sign?
At least my new used iPhone 8 held onto this picture so you'd believe it happened. This is two miles from Mailbox Row. Anybody doing this has driven by our creek area. No other turn-off until they get here. I'm pretty sure it's not somebody who lives in between. Since they have acreage to use for "sighting in a gun."
Seems more like mischief to me. But as long as this STOP sign is here, they're not shooting at our mailboxes or the Bus-Waiting Shack.
Sunday, May 3, 2020
On the Creach
Creach. That's the beach of our creek down by the mailboxes. As you might imagine, it has become quite popular! Somebody call Governor Newsom and see if he can help us out! Nah. Nevermind. Squatters gonna squat. Every day a new crew.
Here's the view from Mailbox Row when I came home from town around 2:00 on Saturday. That is NOT SilverRedO. It's a random intruder, parked on our private gravel road. You might notice the beach blanket set up in front of the truck. Before long, I'll be stepping over squatting sunbathers to get to my own mailbox!
Even my new used iPhone 8 was outraged! So much that I managed to get TWO pictures to stick long enough to get home to New Delly.
There's a closed-barbershop quartet mucking around in the creek. I assume they are stealing catching minnows. Don't know where they're going to squat to cast a line. No fish in this creek!
To be fair, some of the minnowers might be boys from our compound, the family who used the Bus-Waiting Shack way back when kids still had to go to school. I saw some of them swimming in the upper portion of the creek on my way out to town. It could possibly be their sister who set up the beach blanket. If so, no big deal. I see them walk down there a lot. Sad, though, if she was all comfy and that intruder truck pulled up to park right behind her!
I hope the head minnower has good intentions. And that those kids are more worldly than they seem. These days, you can't be too careful. "Want to help me catch some minnows?" might be the new "Can you help me find my puppy?" I guess there's safety in numbers.
If you're looking for a destination for a getaway when you get released from your own Stay-At-Home-Down, then Backroads Creach might be a cup of tea right up your alley! Just so you know, though...our bathrooms are closed.
Even my new used iPhone 8 was outraged! So much that I managed to get TWO pictures to stick long enough to get home to New Delly.
To be fair, some of the minnowers might be boys from our compound, the family who used the Bus-Waiting Shack way back when kids still had to go to school. I saw some of them swimming in the upper portion of the creek on my way out to town. It could possibly be their sister who set up the beach blanket. If so, no big deal. I see them walk down there a lot. Sad, though, if she was all comfy and that intruder truck pulled up to park right behind her!
I hope the head minnower has good intentions. And that those kids are more worldly than they seem. These days, you can't be too careful. "Want to help me catch some minnows?" might be the new "Can you help me find my puppy?" I guess there's safety in numbers.
If you're looking for a destination for a getaway when you get released from your own Stay-At-Home-Down, then Backroads Creach might be a cup of tea right up your alley! Just so you know, though...our bathrooms are closed.
Saturday, May 2, 2020
DIME It! A Strange COINcidence.
TUESDAY, April 28, I found a shiny 2010 face-down penny, at my feet in front of the register at Orb K. There was a man standing there paying as I looked at the lottery ticket display. I heard him say to the clerk, "I don't want any MORE change!" Not sure what that was about, but when I was the next customer, there it was. MEANT FOR ME, obviously.
I don't even know if it was his. The change at Orb K comes down a little ramp into a tiny metal coin dry swimming pool from the register. I took a picture, but of course my new used iPhone 8 ate it. It was showing there, before the darn thing shut itself off and on about 10 times on the drive home.
BONUS! When checking my shirt pocket for my scratcher money before going inside, I found a 2017 penny that I don't recall previously finding! Although I HAD to have found it, or it wouldn't be in my shirt pocket. Let the record show that I wear a shirt to town for an hour or two, then hang it back in the closet. No need to waste resources on an almost-perfectly clean shirt. It's not like I mud-wrestle or sweat like a hod-carrier in July, or attract a dust cloud like Pig-Pen. As long as the dogs don't jump up with muddy feet, I can get multiple wearings from a town shirt.
Anyhoo...my procedure is to put the first penny I find into the shirt pocket. Then pants pocket left, pants pocket right, and lay any others on top of my 44 oz Diet Coke. When I get home, I take out the penny finds, make a note of their date by using my kitchen counter magnifying glass, write it on my note card of the day's good songs, and take it to my lair for recording on New Delly until time to write the Saturday CENTSus.
Thus, finding an uncatalogued penny in my pocket, while a joyous occasion, is also disconcerting. I looked back, and didn't see any 2017 pennies recently, during the shirt-wash cycle. So I'm guessing this came from the Sis-Town Casey's when I was distracted by a former colleague last week? Don't know, don't care, I'm COUNTING IT!
_______________________________________________________________________
FRIDAY, May 1, I slithered out of T-Hoe at Orb K. My favorite parking space was taken, so I had to park next to the truck that took it. Big mirrors on that truck. Heavy duty, like someone who pulls stuff for a living would have. I allowed extra space so I could get T-Hoe's door open all the way, without hitting the mirrors. Obviously, that was MEANT to happen.
If I had parked evenly within the space, T-Hoe would have been on top of this heads-up 2005 dime! Even more remarkable, I was able to keep this photo alive long enough to get it home and transferred to New Delly! That was not an easy task. I sacrificed a closeup for this! Since trying to take a second picture always causes my new used iPhone 8 to black out from the stress! I swear, I was like one of those Naked and Afraid people getting an ember, and trying to keep it alive long enough to transfer it to their new camp after the old one being inundated with water, or surrounded by screaming monkeys.
Anyhoo...that's THREE COINS, worth 12 CENTS this week! Plugging right along toward the Future Pennyillionaire Fortune.
__________________________________________________________________
2020 RUNNING TOTAL
Penny # 41, 42.
Dime # 9.
Nickle still at 3.
Quarter 0
2019 TOTALS
Penny 134
Dime 20
Nickel 8
Quarter 5
__________________________________________________________________
I don't even know if it was his. The change at Orb K comes down a little ramp into a tiny metal coin dry swimming pool from the register. I took a picture, but of course my new used iPhone 8 ate it. It was showing there, before the darn thing shut itself off and on about 10 times on the drive home.
BONUS! When checking my shirt pocket for my scratcher money before going inside, I found a 2017 penny that I don't recall previously finding! Although I HAD to have found it, or it wouldn't be in my shirt pocket. Let the record show that I wear a shirt to town for an hour or two, then hang it back in the closet. No need to waste resources on an almost-perfectly clean shirt. It's not like I mud-wrestle or sweat like a hod-carrier in July, or attract a dust cloud like Pig-Pen. As long as the dogs don't jump up with muddy feet, I can get multiple wearings from a town shirt.
Anyhoo...my procedure is to put the first penny I find into the shirt pocket. Then pants pocket left, pants pocket right, and lay any others on top of my 44 oz Diet Coke. When I get home, I take out the penny finds, make a note of their date by using my kitchen counter magnifying glass, write it on my note card of the day's good songs, and take it to my lair for recording on New Delly until time to write the Saturday CENTSus.
Thus, finding an uncatalogued penny in my pocket, while a joyous occasion, is also disconcerting. I looked back, and didn't see any 2017 pennies recently, during the shirt-wash cycle. So I'm guessing this came from the Sis-Town Casey's when I was distracted by a former colleague last week? Don't know, don't care, I'm COUNTING IT!
_______________________________________________________________________
FRIDAY, May 1, I slithered out of T-Hoe at Orb K. My favorite parking space was taken, so I had to park next to the truck that took it. Big mirrors on that truck. Heavy duty, like someone who pulls stuff for a living would have. I allowed extra space so I could get T-Hoe's door open all the way, without hitting the mirrors. Obviously, that was MEANT to happen.
If I had parked evenly within the space, T-Hoe would have been on top of this heads-up 2005 dime! Even more remarkable, I was able to keep this photo alive long enough to get it home and transferred to New Delly! That was not an easy task. I sacrificed a closeup for this! Since trying to take a second picture always causes my new used iPhone 8 to black out from the stress! I swear, I was like one of those Naked and Afraid people getting an ember, and trying to keep it alive long enough to transfer it to their new camp after the old one being inundated with water, or surrounded by screaming monkeys.
Anyhoo...that's THREE COINS, worth 12 CENTS this week! Plugging right along toward the Future Pennyillionaire Fortune.
__________________________________________________________________
2020 RUNNING TOTAL
Penny # 41, 42.
Dime # 9.
Nickle still at 3.
Quarter 0
2019 TOTALS
Penny 134
Dime 20
Nickel 8
Quarter 5
__________________________________________________________________
Friday, May 1, 2020
Hick Is a Terrible Sneak Thief: Episode 4 of "This Is the Time of Day When We Talk About the Most Recent Things You've Done Wrong."
Don't get me wrong. I don't want Hick to be a GOOD sneak thief! I'm glad he leaves evidence of his ineptitude. He's not even actually thieving. But I DO expect him to get something out of my purse without leaving it like an F6 tornado roared through my handbag.
Hick needed a check to pay for tax and license on his new used duckbill dovetail trailer. Normally, he informs me the night before such a taxing trip, and I lay out a check. PUH-LEASE! Surely you didn't think Hick has access to the checkbook on a daily basis!
Anyhoo...this was a spur-of-the-moment errand. I guess Hick got up at the crack of 7:00 a.m., saw that he didn't wake me by jouncing on the edge of the bed (tossing me in the air as if I was a jolly good fellow) while putting on socks and pants and yanking the rawhide ties on his work boots. So he stopped by the Bank of Val on his way out the kitchen door, for a blank check.
His actions were quite noticeable. Imagine yourself the curator of a hoity-toity art museum, like the LOOVER, heh heh, in France, making your daily rounds before opening. As you walk by the Mona Lisa, you notice that her smile is a little different. In fact, her skin has taken on a yellow pallor, her head is now round as a balloon, her eyes black dots, and her lips a single curved line.
Not that my purse is a work of art. It's about 20 years old, with cracked handle straps. There's a place for everything, with everything in its place. Lots of everything. The checkbook itself is like a long canvas wallet, with slots for credit cards, zippered pockets for currency or coin, and sections to insert a book of checks and their register. When there's a new, thick book of checks, my checkbook is as stuffed as George Costanza's wallet. For two weeks, I haven't snapped the cover closed, so as not to bend the check register. Just a couple days ago, the checks had thinned enough so that I could close the snap.
Hick is not as gentle as I.
My checkbook was crammed down in the center section of my purse, where it belongs. But it was upside down and backwards, which makes the little decorative buckle catch on an inner zippered pocket inside the purse. The thin Zebra ink pen was sticking out the wrong end of the checkbook, catching on my mini bottle of hand sanitizer (don't tell anyone I have it!). Crammed in tighter than Darling Clementine's number nine feet in a size four shoe. And inside, the checkbook register was folded over at the edge.
Hick had even DARED to write in the checkbook register. As you might imagine, his handwriting is not up to my standards! AND he'd written in the check number as large as the section number in a stadium, leaving me no room to denote a circled T for taxes beside it.
Of course I had to bring this to Hick's attention, during our evening session I call "This Is the Time of Day When We Talk About the Most Recent Things You've Done Wrong."
"You know what this is about, right?"
"Heh, heh. I'm sure there's something. You tell me."
"About the checkbook."
"Oh lordy. Here we go..."
When I was done, Hick smiled.
"Okay. I DID have trouble fastening it and putting the checkbook back in your purse. I though you were going to yell at me for tearing TWO checks by accident... I stopped just in time."
!!!
My attention to detail has been dulled during Stay-At-Home-Down.
Hick needed a check to pay for tax and license on his new used duckbill dovetail trailer. Normally, he informs me the night before such a taxing trip, and I lay out a check. PUH-LEASE! Surely you didn't think Hick has access to the checkbook on a daily basis!
Anyhoo...this was a spur-of-the-moment errand. I guess Hick got up at the crack of 7:00 a.m., saw that he didn't wake me by jouncing on the edge of the bed (tossing me in the air as if I was a jolly good fellow) while putting on socks and pants and yanking the rawhide ties on his work boots. So he stopped by the Bank of Val on his way out the kitchen door, for a blank check.
His actions were quite noticeable. Imagine yourself the curator of a hoity-toity art museum, like the LOOVER, heh heh, in France, making your daily rounds before opening. As you walk by the Mona Lisa, you notice that her smile is a little different. In fact, her skin has taken on a yellow pallor, her head is now round as a balloon, her eyes black dots, and her lips a single curved line.
Not that my purse is a work of art. It's about 20 years old, with cracked handle straps. There's a place for everything, with everything in its place. Lots of everything. The checkbook itself is like a long canvas wallet, with slots for credit cards, zippered pockets for currency or coin, and sections to insert a book of checks and their register. When there's a new, thick book of checks, my checkbook is as stuffed as George Costanza's wallet. For two weeks, I haven't snapped the cover closed, so as not to bend the check register. Just a couple days ago, the checks had thinned enough so that I could close the snap.
Hick is not as gentle as I.
My checkbook was crammed down in the center section of my purse, where it belongs. But it was upside down and backwards, which makes the little decorative buckle catch on an inner zippered pocket inside the purse. The thin Zebra ink pen was sticking out the wrong end of the checkbook, catching on my mini bottle of hand sanitizer (don't tell anyone I have it!). Crammed in tighter than Darling Clementine's number nine feet in a size four shoe. And inside, the checkbook register was folded over at the edge.
Hick had even DARED to write in the checkbook register. As you might imagine, his handwriting is not up to my standards! AND he'd written in the check number as large as the section number in a stadium, leaving me no room to denote a circled T for taxes beside it.
Of course I had to bring this to Hick's attention, during our evening session I call "This Is the Time of Day When We Talk About the Most Recent Things You've Done Wrong."
"You know what this is about, right?"
"Heh, heh. I'm sure there's something. You tell me."
"About the checkbook."
"Oh lordy. Here we go..."
When I was done, Hick smiled.
"Okay. I DID have trouble fastening it and putting the checkbook back in your purse. I though you were going to yell at me for tearing TWO checks by accident... I stopped just in time."
!!!
My attention to detail has been dulled during Stay-At-Home-Down.
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