The Harem: Hot for Hick, Strippin', and Takin' Pills

Hick's Harem is SO infatuated with him. He still has not inspected the wall of the lady who said Friday night that she needed it painted. She since called and apologized, so her wall is on the back burner. One of the old men at the apartments told Hick, "She's a nice lady. But she drinks too much." Who knows what horrors HE's seen!

Anyhoo... Hick stopped by the apartments on his way home from his SUS2.5 on Sunday evening. One of the Harem said her air conditioner wasn't working. With the heat index at 110-115 for the past few days, that could be a major safety issue.

"One of the other ladies had two air conditioners, and said I could take one to put in the other gal's apartment. I told them both to make sure they were awake at 8:15 on Monday morning, because Old Buddy and I would be there to switch the air conditioners." 

Hick was going about his other business (of who knows what) after the AC switch, when the "kitchen gals" called him to come to back to the apartments.

"They said this one lady was wandering around, and she wasn't right. They wanted to know if I had her daughter's phone number. I do, in my files, so I went by. She was all confused. She said there was kids in the room bothering her, and they do it every morning. I asked her if she took her medicine. She said yeah, that somebody gets it ready for her. We went up to look, and she said she takes the pills in the blue container in the morning, and the purple container in the evening. Well, there was pills gone from Tuesday in the purple container. She'd drugged herself up by taking her nighttime pills with her morning pills. I called her daughter. She lives an hour away, and was at work. So the brother over in Bill-Paying Town was gonna come check on her. When I went back at lunch time, she seemed okay. She was aware of everything and not confused. I guess she had a sleeping pill in those night time pills."

"Oh, and I was working there after lunch in my office. As I left, a group of four of them ladies was sittin' out under the awning. They said, 'So-and-So is sunbathing in her bra. Do you mind?' I said, 'As long as her boobs are covered, I don't. I don't care if you all sunbathe nekkid, but the police might.' They got to gigglin' at that."

"She was in her bra? What did it look like? Was it white?"

"No. It was gray, I think. It showed less than a bathing suit."

"I can't believe they were outside in this heat. I guess they knew you'd be leaving, and were putting on a show."

"They all like me, that's for sure."

Yes. It is obvious.

HIck Is a Shrewd Businessman

Hick had a good day of selling at his SUS2.5 on Sunday. Thirteen items (of the strictly regulated and pricey variety), though about half of them were put into lay-a-way for payments. He also had a couple offers he could refuse.

"This guy come in with a bunch of arrowheads. Two of 'em was good, but most of them were broken. I offered him $40 for the lot. He asked if I was joking. He said, 'I wouldn't take that just for one!' The he showed me a German soldier's helmet. I took a picture of it. You can do a search on the picture. It came back as NOT a soldier's helmet, but a German police/firefighter helmet. I offered him $40, and he said he had $500 in it. I didn't do any business with him."

I guess some of these "customers" think Hick is a country bumpkin with no knowledge of collectibles whatsoever. I told Hick that you never know these days. Somebody might see arrowheads in his shop, and complain that they are not to be bought and sold, and should be returned to whatever Native American group to which they originally belonged.

"Yeah. I didn't ask where he got them. I know we have two here in my case that the boys found down by the creek when we bought the land. And they're in good shape, not like the ones this guy had."

As a public service announcement, you should beware that if somebody tries to sell you a German soldier's helmet, it might not be all he claims.

Technology Might Be a Killer

Hick had a doctor appointment last week. It was an endocrinologist he goes to once a year. Specifically to check on his thyroid, which had a growth or enlargement a couple years ago. Hick's report was good. The thyroid hasn't changed. His doctor said he'd check it again next year, and if it was till the same, he'd release Hick.

Hick also went to his regular doctor for a checkup. And maybe the cardiologist. He's still trying to get everything in order for some minor surgery he was supposed to have when he caught what they thought was pneumonia or a collapsed lung! Anyhoo... somewhere amongst those appointments, Hick was told to check his blood pressure, and report the readings. That's because they cut his blood pressure medicine, since his BP was running too low.

Hick came home with a bundle of papers from the appointments. One of them had a code number, telling his to log into his YourChart account (heh, heh, let's call it HisChart), which he's never set up. Whichever doctor told him to check BP said Hick didn't have to write it down on the log they gave him, but to just upload the readings on HisChart.

Hick showed the papers to The Pony, with the code number, and The Pony set up HisChart. Not a big deal, you would think. I have my own account. I don't LIKE it, but I can log in to check in for appointments, and pay bills when notified. Also I can read the doctor notes after an appointment, and check my labs.

Anyhoo... Hick is upset with HisChart. 

"My doctor said I could find out when they schedule my surgery again by looking in there. But something's wrong, because it's got doctors listed on there that I ain't never seen. Some in Oklahoma. Some in Arkansas. And it don't have my regular doctors on there. It's like it's for somebody else. I asked the gal down at the endocrinologist if she could help me with it, and she said no. She give me this phone number, and said I'd have to call and do it myself."

Well. I can understand that. They can't have just anybody logging into patients' electronic records. Hick has not called yet. He thinks maybe it got confused with The Veteran, who has Hick's name, but is a Jr. He has been to a doctor in Oklahoma. But not Arkansas. You would think they would consider the birthdate and/or social security number when recording such information, since you get asked that all the time for verification.

It can't be good for a doctor to look at Hick's HisChart, and assume he's had some of the ailments and treatments listed there...

Here We Go A-Hareming

Friday night, 7:34 p.m. You know what that means. Ring, ring! Hick answered.

"Yes. This is Hick. Yes. We'll get to it. There's so much that needs doing. It won't happen immediately, but we'll get it done. Uh huh. No, we can't spray. We'll get it figured out. We're working on it. I'll talk to you Monday. That's okay. I'll talk to you then. Bye."

"Who was THAT?"

"It was my lady who likes to drink..."

"Of course it was! It's FRIDAY! They always have to call you on a Friday. What's wrong now?"

"She's been drinking. She always drinks on the weekends. She wants her apartment painted."

"Did she think you'd drive over there right now and do it?"

"I don't know what she thinks. I've already talked to her about it. She sent me two texts tonight, and I answered them. Then she called."

"What's wrong with her apartment?"

"Nothing that I know of. She keeps saying a wall just needs to be touched up. Then she said she needed a ladder, because she can't reach up by the ceiling. I told her I wasn't givin' her no ladder."

"Can she paint it herself?"

"No! She cain't barely even walk! Her cleaning lady was gonna do the painting for her. I'll have to take a look at it and see what she thinks is wrong."

I guess Hick's Harem think they should be living in the Taj Mahal. 

It Was Bound to Happen

Hick and Old Buddy spent a couple of cool(er) days working at Cheap House, tearing out the unlevel floor and putting down a new subfloor. 

This is the area between the front room and the kitchen. The furnace and washer/dryer were in that space. Hick says they are going bye-bye. He opened up the furnace, and it was full of gunk. Not salvageable. I imagine HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and his buddy took any working appliances when they did the initial cleanout.

Here's more of that area, after more floor removal. Hick replaced rotten floor joists, and leveled the floor. He and Old Buddy put down the new subfloor. It's not intended for living on, heh, heh. Just a base to put a new (level) floor of laminate or carpet or whatever the eventual flip-buyer wants.

This is the new floor in the front room. That window looks out onto the street. I think that's a cabinet Hick is using as a work table. The other might be a dryer that he moved out of the way to work on the other part of the floor.

This is another view of the front room, looking back through the furnace area, to the kitchen. Hick says he hopes to get the kitchen floor done next week. Then Cheap House will be ready to list with Realtor Guy.

Just as I suspected, and dreaded... Hick said last night, "I'm not so sure we shouldn't KEEP this house, and fix it up to sell. I've already done the hard parts. I could work on it when I get Lap House done."

I KNEW Hick would do that! Which is why I didn't want to buy Cheap House when we already had Lap House. Of course it would make sense, after spending so much on the roof. I told Hick that was not part of the original agreement. He was all for flipping quick, and making a small profit. Now he wants to do the whole thing. It doesn't matter so much to US, but The Pony has money tied up in two flips now, and is paying two sets of half-expenses. And Cheap House will need an HVAC system. They ain't cheap! Nor are kitchens.

I don't know what The Pony will have to say when I break this news. Hick tried to act like it was just a suggestion. "Oh, yeah. Of course we'll still list it. But if it doesn't sell, I can finish it..." 

So Many Spaces, So Little Respect

This is why we can't have accessible things. SOME people are so entitled that they park where they darn well please. Never mind that they might be inconveniencing a protected demographic. Also breaking the law. And generally being a first-class rumpushole.

It was Tuesday, the hottest day of the year. Heat index 115. I had just come out of Save A Lot and climbed into T-Hoe. I was LUCKY to get the other handicap space, the one I prefer. 

This guy comes whipping into this handicap space. No handicap plate. No handicap placard. He got out and walked to the door with no sign of any different-abledness nor orthopedic injury. He looked like a thin version of David Crosby.

Don't make excuses for him, like maybe he didn't know it was a handicap parking space. The stencil is clearly visible. It's not like there were no other places to park. The space right next to him is empty. And the whole row behind him.

I have a feeling he would have preferred to park in a striped handicap walkway. Because he and his sports car are so very special.

What We Have Here Is a Failure to Get a Hearing Aid

Life is not a bowl of cherries here at our hillbilly mansion. It's more like a box of chocolates. Some of those chocolates are bitter! Disagreements can usually be talked out. Unless one of the disagree-ers doesn't listen. Or as that certain disagree-er says, "I listen to you, but I don't hear you." This causes our sweet Val to endure occasional tongue-lashings which she does not deserve. 

Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table scratching lottery tickets when Hick got home. He'd planned to mow the front yard/field, but I told him it was too hot. He instead decided to watch Emergency and MASH, and have a beer and a snack in his recliner. His movements in my peripheral vision reminded me of my trip to the store earlier. 

Hick was getting a small styrofoam bowl from beside the sink. There's always a couple that I set there, having been used once for pretzels or a dry snack, then the crumbs dumped out, and perfectly usable again.

"Save A Lot doesn't have ANYTHING any more!"

"I put this bowl here! It's the one I used yesterday!"

"And...?

"FINE! I'll get another one!" Hick stomped away from the counter to get a "new" styrofoam bowl from the other side of the kitchen.

"What does that have to do with what I was saying?"

"You said 'I CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING ANY MORE!' So I put down your bowl to get a new one."

"No. I said SAVE A LOT doesn't have anything any more! I noticed, because you picked up a bowl, and I went there to buy some of the big styrofoam bowls, and they were out. Also out of Nutty Oat Bread, and their store brand Honey BBQ Sauce. That's all I was trying to say when you flipped out. At least wait to yell at me when you actually know what I said."

"Well, you were looking at me because I took your bowl! But it was MY bowl, that I used yesterday."

"I was looking at you because you picked up A BOWL, which reminded me that I couldn't find the big bowls at the store."

So many of these "discussions" could be avoided if Hick would only get a hearing aid, and not ASSUME he knows what I'm saying. I didn't give a fat rat's rumpus if he used that bowl.