And Just Like That, Even Steven Comes Sniffing Around

Too soon! Too soon! It's my own fault. I just HAD to share how I've been having a good run of luck lately. Now Even Steven has appeared to settle the score.

Tuesday, I did my errands which are regularly on Thursdays. That's because we are going out for a Mother's Day dinner. My first stop was the bank, where I take out our weekly cash allowance. Real money spends slower than plastic money, you know! I've bemoaned the loss of the drive-thru window since LAST OCTOBER. The bank's excuse always being that they don't have enough personnel to have the drive-thru open. It's only three lanes! And they could just have one of them open, not all three. You know, for lazy bad-kneed people such as Val who prefer to sit on their ample rumpuses, rather than stand while waiting.

Anyhoo... I parked T-Hoe in the handicap space, which is way down past the end of the building. There were only two cars parked out front, a white truck and a metallic SUV. What I saw when I hobbled through the door made my blood curdle.

SIX YOUNG LADIES in one line, and a Dude holding a green plastic woven basket full of money in the other line. Let the record show that only ONE teller was working. She had the line of six YLs. Dude was to the right of the door, leaning his back against the window wall of the vestibule. He had just asked the YLs if they were all together. I suppose to question whether he would be the next served, or if one of them would step over to the teller currently fiddling behind a NEXT REGISTER sign. The YLs answered in unison that they were all together, doing the same thing.

The YLs were tall, athletic-looking, 18-20, maybe. They reminded me of a college team that might have just gotten paid for hosting a camp or something. As I waited, I saw that each would put a check on the counter, sign something, and get money. I suppose they were cashing their checks. One was asked if she had her debit card with her. I don't think they were opening accounts.

Anyhoo... the NEXT REGISTER gal took a drawer and left to the safe. But a different gal came out of a back room and opened up that slot, while another lady closed herself in a back office with glass walls. Dude stepped up and said he was making a deposit.

"It's already counted."

"I'll have to put it through the money counter anyway."

Well. Great. I had picked the very worst time to show up at the bank. Who knew that the YLs had come in a clown car! And that somebody would bring in a basket of money! I leaned my ample rumpus against the glass wall of the vestibule vacated by Dude, and wondered whether I should just leave and come back. I had walked the length of the building already. Surely it couldn't take THAT long to count Dude's money.

Hear that? It's Even Steven, chuckling like Muttley.

I heard the money counter whizzing through the first of Dude's four bundles of bills. They were bound with paper, like when The Pony won his jackpot at the casino. I don't know how much money this was, but they were sizeable bricks. I'm guessing maybe 1000 bills in each one. You know, they had to be carried in a little basket.

Anyhoo... that money counting machine kept making a beep every now and then. The Teller would sigh. I guess she had to keep putting them back through, starting over. Meanwhile, two of the YLs did their business, and sat down in the chairs in the small lobby area, along with the lady who had driven them there. AND a man and woman who came in after me. I did not want to risk losing my turn, so I stood, marking my claim on being next after Dude. Another woman came in, and stood beside me.

The Teller came back to the front, and told Dude, "I'm going to need to hand-count this. You have a few $2 bills mixed in with the ones. Do you have a total you thought you were depositing?"

"Oh. I didn't know there were $2 bills in there! I had a total of $3,986."

"I will need you to verify this as I count them out in front of you."

I was ready to pull out my lovely lady-mullet upon hearing this! But I was already there. I didn't want to walk out and then come back. My knees were making that grindy sound every time I shifted. Twenty minutes had passed! The YLs got done before Dude. I'm sure the other customers were cursing me as I hobbled to that slot for my cash withdrawal.

This is where Even Steven almost passed out from wheezy-laughing so hard.

"I really miss your drive-thru."

"Oh. It's open! It opened last week. I just don't think anybody knows it yet."

"You mean if I would have driven around back today, I would have seen the green arrows?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, it's not like you have enough people here to wait on the drive-thru."

"Oh, I would have eventually gone over there. Just push the buzzer."

ALL THAT STANDING FOR NOTHING!!! I could have been ample-rumpusing, rather than standing! At least I'll know for next week.

The Universe Spreads the Luck

Aside from missing out on Reuben Day at the Senior Center, and simmering in self-pity from The Pony's decision, Val is having a pretty good month. There's the Double Hovel (impending) sale, Mother's Day with well-wishes, two non-self-cooked meals, cards, a box of chocolates... AND this winning scratcher.

That's a $100 winner on a $3 ticket that I got at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Monday. Guess I won't be buying that ticket again until next week! There are 99 tickets on a roll, and this was number 053. I guessing there won't be a bigger winner left. I try to be logical in my addiction to games of chance!

I bet that future tenant of Hick's apartments is also feeling lucky. The one who was the subject of the police phone call to Hick. Monday morning, Hick looked up his phone number, and called to tell him that the police had found his wallet, and were trying to contact him.

"I'm sure he was glad to hear that news!"

"Yeah. He said he had everything in it. I don't know what he meant by 'everything,' because he had his money in a bank envelope. But he was happy, and said he would go pick it up."

Let's hope that Even Steven doesn't come sniffing around for a while. I'm enjoying the ride while it lasts.

Don't Swear Out a Murder Warrant Just Yet

Let's not jump to conclusions. Val does not need her picture adorning the post office on the Most Wanted List just yet. Hick is still alive and kickin'. Val is not actively trying to kill him...

Sunday afternoon, I stopped at 10Box for a few things before getting my scratchers out of the machine. Those items were four bananas, six lemons, a bag of Sour Cream and Cheddar Potato Chips, and a box of Little Debbie Fudge Rounds. I had the Young Man Checker, who just turned 21 in January, according to the multi-colored-hair checker last week, who assured me that "all our boys are 21 now," when I said I avoided his line when buying Hick's Wild Turkey.

Anyhoo... YM Checker asked how I was doing. He's an entertaining kid, always friendly.

"Oh, I just had to get the necessities."

"Ha ha. I agree. Especially with THESE," he said, scanning the Little Debbie Fudge Rounds.

"Those are for my husband. He eats one every night."

"Oh, no! Does he have nightmares?"

"No. He has diabetes! He shouldn't be eating them at all..."

"Well, he might be having nightmares AND diabetes!"

"I know he shouldn't eat them, but he likes them so much. I'm not really trying to kill him. And who am I to deny him such a small pleasure?"

YM Checker agreed with me. He didn't try to take a picture for evidence while I was bagging my own groceries.

Hick Manages

Hick is definitely earning his less-than-$300 a month for managing the senior apartments. His duties cut into his Friday afternoon bull-shooting session with his cronies. He got a call from one of the elderlies, who thought she had water leaking into her ceiling. Hick drove over to inspect, and said it looked like it was condensation.

"There was a couple drips coming from a little brown spot on the ceiling over her refrigerator. It wasn't dripping anymore by the time I left. I'll get some kill-spray to put on it and watch it to see if it keeps dripping."

"What is kill spray?"

"It'll get rid of whatever the brown spot is. It won't stop a leak. I'm not sure how to stop condensation, if that's what it is."

"I wondered why I passed you coming home an hour early."

"I just didn't go back after I checked out that lady's ceiling."

Saturday evening, Hick had a phone call from THE POLICE! No, Hick is not a suspect.

"The police asked me if I rented to a guy named [REDACTED]. I said I had a [REDACTED] who would be moving in at the first of the month. They wanted his phone number, but I don't have it. I said it was in my desk in my office, and that I could get it Monday. They said they found his billfold, and my card was in it. So they were trying to find out how to contact him to give back his billfold."

"Wow. He must be in a panic. Did he have his money in it? And all his ID?"

"I don't know what was in it, except for my business card."

I don't know why Hick couldn't go get the info before Monday morning, but it was already after 7:00 on Saturday night. Maybe it's hard to do business with the police on a Sunday, though you wouldn't think they'd have a different weekend schedule for that type of job.

Oh, and the old man who wanted to view an apartment and rent it RIGHT THEN didn't qualify. He didn't meet the income requirements for the Senior Center Apartments policy. In calling around to check on his application, Hick also found out that he's apparently been living all over the eastern part of the state. He had been down in Casino Town before he ended up in the Illinois place. It sounds like he lives somewhere until his time or money runs out, and then moves on to another place. It's sad that has to happen, but the Senior Center is not a shelter, and not a nursing home. Hick has to follow the policy.

I've Been Hicked!

Val doesn't ask for much. She's not a compulsive shopper, doesn't demand gewgaws and doodads and tchotchkes, nor fancy jewelry, nor lavish vacations. Just the occasional ride to a casino, and a Reuben sandwich from the Senior Center once a month.

Hick comes and goes as he pleases, starting eleventy-billion projects, working three hours four mornings a week on the flip houses, then traipsing about the countryside gathering collectibles and sellables before returning home for supper. We (mostly) peacefully co-exist. Yet now I feel betrayed!!!

It's almost the middle of May. Since the end of April, I've been asking Hick for the monthly menu handed out at the Senior Center. Hick says he forgets to pick one up. He even had the audacity earlier this week to declare that he DID get a menu, but left it lying on his lunch table. A lot of good that does ME!

"I just wanted to look it over and see if there's anything I might like."

"Well, you could always go there and eat it at lunch."

No. I don't eat lunch. I generally don't have my breakfast of a banana and a handful of fake honey nut cheerios until noon. That's when the Senior Center lunch ends.

On Thursday, May 8, Hick brought home a menu for May. As I looked at it, my heart fell into my stomach.

"NOOOO!!! You made me miss REUBEN DAY! The one lunch that I always ask you to bring me. And you didn't even tell me!!!"

"Oh. They didn't have it. They had a turkey wrap that day. They couldn't get the Reubens."

A likely story! I know the Senior Center sometimes serves off-menu. But it's never happened before on Reuben Day. Hick is no dummy. He knows better than to tell me he had a Reuben for lunch, and then I had none!

I'm pretty sure this delay in getting me the menu had something to do with self-preservation. Not with trying to spare my feelings. Only the wrath.

A Speed-Weave Tapestry for Thevictorians

The sun is even shining on Thevictorians' rumpuses these days! Yesterday I revealed that we received an offer to buy the Double Hovel flip house on Tuesday afternoon, and that our counter-offer was accepted on Wednesday afternoon. The Double Hovel was officially under contract, contingent on the prospective  buyers selling their current house, which they had just put on the market the previous day.

Thursday morning around 9:30, Hick called. I'm always worried about a random phone call from Hick, since in the past they've been related to ER visits with The Pony. It's usually nothing good. But this time, it WAS GOOD!

The prospective buyers had accepted an offer on their current house, and closing on our Double Hovel will be on June 9. After so many months of waiting for a qualified buyer on our flip house, the deal was done in whirlwind fashion, with an offer then a closing date in less than 48 hours!

Of course we are thrilled, and Scrooge-McDuck-ily counting our respective fortunes. Especially The Pony, who made a life-changing decision a few weeks ago. That's not for current discussion, as it saddens Val greatly. Let's just say that The Pony is polishing a nest egg, Val is saving for a rainy day, and Hick is contemplating yet another venture. We must all be careful about counting our ducklings before they hatch, but morale is high around Thevictorian household(s) this week.

Can This Web Be Woven into a Rich Tapestry?

You may recall that we recently renewed our efforts to divide the Double Hovel flip house property. Hick talked to our lawyer last Tuesday to get the process started, and see if we can get a new hearing with the city.

The Universe issued a hearty laugh, and Even Steven snickered. This Tuesday, Hick got a call from Realtor with an offer on the Double Hovel.

This offer was of course not the asking price, but it was a reasonable offer, unlike the previous two that were from investors trying to get a quick bargain. (The very NERVE of them, heh, heh!)

Hick said we should take this offer and be done with it. I said that nobody expects their first offer to be accepted, and that they make their offer with wiggle room to negotiate. Hick pointed out that these prospective buyers had already been approved for a loan, and we should take that offer and run. Again, I wanted a tiny bit more. Enough to cover the lawyer fees for this new attempt to divide the properties. It's not a lot more. It shouldn't be a deal-breaker. 

Since we are a triumvirate, the decision was left to The Pony. Who didn't really care either way. Hick, being experienced with how my hard head works, agreed to counter-offer with my figure. He sent it by text to Realtor at 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday. By 2:00, the prospective buyers had accepted our counter-offer. The Double Hovel is officially under contract!

The prospective buyers are making no demands, asking for no inspections or fees. In my opinion, they know they are getting a bargain! I don't begrudge them that. We will still enjoy a healthy return on our investment money and the sweat of Hick's brow.

The only stipulation is that their purchase depends on the sale of their current house. That's not uncommon. If we receive another offer while waiting for their property to sell, they will have 72 hours to poo or get their rumpuses off the throne (so to speak).

We are cautiously optimistic. 

As for that web, it is being woven into more of a tangle with this contract. We cannot split the property, even if granted such a variance, because it would affect the current proposed deal. Hick is afraid to stop proceedings, lest this deal fall through. He says nothing will be legal anyway until we would get the variance, and have the property surveyed and recorded at the county courthouse. I say maybe we should have Lawyer set our case aside for now, while we see what develops.

You didn't really think this story would end here, did you? More tomorrow...