Tuesday in the Grocery Store with Hick

I was without the use of my trusty T-Hoe on Tuesday afternoon. He had to stay overnight at Mick the Mechanic's shop to get his gas tank canister solenoid thingy replaced, and put $988.20 in Mick's pocket. Hick knew I'd been expecting to get T-Hoe back around 2:00. He selflessly volunteered to drive me to town for my lottery tickets. I could have driven A-Cad myself, but I prefer T-Hoe. I'm not one to turn down a chauffeur, even one who sweaves with abandon.

"I want to go to the Gas Station Chicken Store, like I do every day. And also to 10Box for their lottery machines. Do you want to go in the store with me? I can show you how these new machines work, in case I ask you to get me tickets sometime, like in the snow. We can pick up some more soda for you. And some canned mushrooms. We're running low."

"Yeah. I can go in."

"Will you be okay if I'm the one leaning on the cart? I know your knees have been hurting you."

"I'll be fine." By now, we were pulling into the 10Box parking lot. "Where do you want me to park?"

"Uh. The HANDICAPPED space? Because there's one open, right by the door."

We have my second handicap placard hanging from A-Cad's mirror, for when Hick takes me places. Also for when Hick takes A-Cad places, I suspect. I'm sure he could get his own placard, what with his two spinal surgeries and his age. 

Anyhoo... I took a cart from the corral, and we started in. Passing through the double set of glass doors, Hick looked at the two beeper carts parked there.

"Heh, heh! I could get me a riding cart!"

"You could. But the way you drive, I don't want you beside me!"

We picked up two 6-packs of Diet Sprite. Hick has switched to that since his surgery in August, temporarily giving up his three or four Diet Mountain Dews per day and all that caffeine. On the way to the mushroom aisle, Hick found a treat in an end-cap.

"Huh. What are these?" He asked, rooting through some orange packages.

"Looks like fake Oreos, with orange filling in the middle."

"Huh. Them might be good."

"Go ahead and put them in the cart."

After the mushrooms, I walked him past the open meat bins. "See? They have really good pork steaks here. And they make their own bratwursts now too, like Save A Lot."

"They do look good."

"Maybe if the weather stays nice, and you want to grill, I'll come back and get some. Now let's get my oatmeal and your breakfast bars. Oh, and we'll go up front to the pastry tables, so I can get another pack of Hawaiian Rolls for your sliders."

"When the weather cools off a little more, I'm coming back to get a bunch of taffy for my store."

"Of course you are. Even though you pretend it's for your customers... Do you see anything you want here?"

"No. Not really. Oh. Honey Buns. I like Honey Buns. Maybe I'll get one. Are they expensive? Huh. 98 cents."

Hick picked up two Honey Buns. Then looked at what remained in the box. Then put his two back, and picked up the whole box of six.

The older checkout gal gave me that look as I put Hick's sugary treats on the conveyor, and he stood in front of the cart, chatting with some guy who recognized him.

"I KNOW! This is what happens when I bring him to the store." 

Hick turned and put the soda back into the cart. He had set both 6-packs on the conveyor, even though she could have scanned them on the side of the cart with her handheld scanner. He was grabbing things as they came down the conveyor, dumping them in a bag, then putting the bag in the cart. All the while distracted by talking. The last things to get scanned were two (full-size) cans of mushrooms. Hick picked them up and started rooting at the bags in the cart. 

"You can't put them in with your Honey Buns! No, you can't put them in with your cookies! They'll smash anything else in the bag."

Hick laid the two cans of mushrooms on top of the soda 6-packs. They promptly rolled off and clanged into the bottom of the cart.

"Just get them out and put them in their own bag! You can't carry them in the house in just your hands."

For a guy who's really smart about a lot of things, Hick is terrible shopper.

Nothing But the Kitchen Sink

When he was cleaning up the vintage cast iron porcelain sink from Lap House before re-installing it, Hick made a discover on the bottom.

"I found the year it was made. The date, really. And what might be a serial number or a model number."

It's upside down here. I should have flipped the photo, but that messed with my brain. Not the flipping, but the view when it was flipped. The date is 7/29/58. The number above it (or here below) is 6885. 

None of that is here nor there. Hick just thought it was interesting to know how old the sink is. He didn't mention a manufacturer, so I guess he didn't see any markings for that. It's probably not a Kohler, because the innernets tell me that Kohler put a "K" in front of their numbers.

Yes. Hick cleaned the rest of the sink before installing it. I asked!

In case you haven't seen enough of the sink lately, here's what the business side looks like.

This was before Hick ripped it out. It has double drainers on the sides. They don't make 'em like they used to. Well. They probably do. But I suspect they're more fragile.

Good Riddance to a Not-So-Good Renter

If you see Hick out and about, doing the Snoopy Dance, here's the reason. A problem Harem-ite has moved. Completely! She's out! Now Hick and his two-man crew are cleaning up the apartment for the next renter, who has already signed the papers.

"I'm glad she's gone. That apartment is a mess. I don't think she ever took her little dog outside! It pooped all over the place. That's why I'm putting laminate flooring in all the apartments as I fix them up. I'll send you a picture of the mess."

Yeah. I don't really see how cleaning could ever restore that carpet. Rip it out and take it to the dump. That's the plan. The work will be done on the not-for-profit agency's dime, not out of Hick's money. They realize how lucky they are to have a Hick doing the renovations for them.

Hick is a little upset with Dog Lady. She wasn't a big problem, just the dog poop. She had a doctor's note for using the dog as a support animal. And she got into it with another lady who threatened to kill her dog. As well as calling Hick at home for trivial things. What really upset him was when she wanted to "sell back" the FREE furniture he had given her out of storage. AND after moving out: "I can't believe she actually asked for her deposit back!"

The couch is one that was given to her. Another lady wants it. She will trade the couch she has now. The lady moving in doesn't have a couch, and Hick told her she could have the other lady's couch. So it's couches for all! Hick says the one in the picture reclines, so that's why the other lady wants to trade.

Did I ever mention that I don't like Hick having this apartment job? It makes him feel important, and he really does help the elderlies. But it steals time away from the flip houses.

Kitchen Decisions for Lap House

Hick has the rich guy cabinets and the old cast-iron double sink installed at Lap House. Now comes time for decisions about the backsplash and flooring. In fact, it looks like Hick is planning to use flooring for the backsplash. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think he's done it successfully for another flip. Of course he knew that I'd require pictures to give my input.

"What do you think of this board for back of cabinets? The white board will divide the two."

"Might be too much wood. And grain. A solid would be better."

"Another option."

"No. I still don't like it. Needs no pattern. Just a solid."

"Okay."

Don't get me wrong. It doesn't have to be absolutely solid. Just mainly solid. A small pattern like dots or stars or thin stripes could work, depending on how it looks next to the butcher block. But that's too much to overwhelm Hick with choices!

Anyhoo... here's the sink and counter and cabinets, all installed. As Hick said:

"I think it looks pretty good."

"It looks great. That's why we should make good backsplash and flooring choices."

What do you think for those choices?

The Pony Bugs Out (Part 2)

You have been warned! Read no further if you are squeamish about seeing a half-eaten bug! There will be an extreme closeup. TWO!

I continued to chat with The Pony about the unfortunate insect consumption. Little did I know how truly HORRENDOUS this experience had been. It hit me when I saw the pictures. I'll share them here, with the rest of the conversation before the gravity of The Pony's personal Not-Heaven hit me upon first sight. We'll start with the box. After that, you can choose to stop or continue. In case the sight of a half-eaten bug might trigger an unpleasant reaction...

It's a fiber brownie. FIBER ONE. That's a pretty big brand. It's not like The Pony was just having a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie for breakfast. Though in retrospect that might have been healthier. Just sugar, without the bug.

"You should send your pictures to the company and complain. You'd at least get some free coupons for more. That's what I got when I found a bone in my canned white meat chicken from Swanson. Then again, you might never want to eat them again. I bet you already threw away the rest of them!"

"No. There are still a couple in the box. I took pictures of the barcode and some other code numbers. I might send them."

"So do you think it was cooked in the brownie? Or was the package torn or open?"

"Nothing was open. It looked like the regular package. And I've never seen a bug like this in my house."

"Well, you should send in a complaint, along with when and where you bought them."

"Yeah. I might. It was from Country Mart. I think it was a couple of weeks ago."

"Okay. Sorry that happened to you. I'll let you go. And I'll look at the pictures."

NOT-HEAVEN, NOOOO!!!!

The first view was bad, but it got worse. Here's the bug that was pulled from between The Pony's teeth, beside the foil packet and the crumbled remainder that showed no bug parts. The Pony had been hoping for at least a leg or wing, to prove that no parts had been swallowed.

"EEEEE!!! It's worse than I thought!!!

"Imagine how I feel!"

"Stay strong, my little Pony."

"The probiscis! The thorax! The single remaining leg!"

"It's too larva-like!"

"The throwing up was a forgone conclusion! And I shall need medicaments to deal with it! It has. Little like wing stubs. I think it was at least a nymph."

"STAHHHHHP! You need compensation. I'd refer you to Jackie Chiles, but that's a Seinfeld reference, and you don't watch."

"Now, I think even you could find this one funny. To quote one of my friends: 'You got RFK Jr'd.' Going by the best-buy date and Google, this box was probably made in April this year."

"I assume that's a reference to cutbacks at the FDA or something. He should have been standing on that production line himself! But was probably too busy chugging methylene blue."

"Hehe!"

[No political comments, please. This was just banter between The Pony and me.]

Anyhoo... The Pony is still kickin'. No doubt due to the extra protein, and being well-rested after going back to bed after that experience. It didn't help that the chicken patty The Pony cooked for supper the night before had a bone in it. 

"It looked like a little bird bone."

"Maybe it was plastic, like off the zip-lock closure at the top of the bag."

"No. It was harder than plastic. I didn't think much about it at the time. But now this."

I hope The Pony sends in the pictures and complains to Fiber One. Too bad the remainder of the brownie was crumbled up and thrown away. That could have been sent in, along with the half-bug, for analysis. As I told The Pony: "To prove you're not some weirdo putting a chopped-off thumb in Wendy's chili, or a mouse in a bucket of KFC."

The Pony Bugs Out (Part 1)

I was washing dishes on Friday morning at 7:23 when I heard a text come in. My phone was in the living room next to my OPC (Old People Chair). I figured it could wait until my dishes were done. Maybe it was just Hick reporting that he'd seen something along the road on the way to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). 

Nope. It was a text from The Pony. I felt bad that I'd waited a few minutes. The Pony obviously needed my support...

"Horrible nightmarish no good very bad morning! Was eating my brownie for breakfast before meds. Felt something in my teeth. Pulled out half a bug. Currently partway through throwing up because the other half was. Not. In the remaining bit of brownie I crumbled up, or in the water glass or anything."

I responded immediately with "Yikes!" And then called.

The Pony was mid-tooth-brushing. Took a moment to rinse and spit. Then we had a short chat. Of course I tried to make light of the situation.

"You know, there are cultures that eat bugs on a regular basis. Just consider yourself as having a bit of extra protein for the day."

"Heh, heh. Yeah. But it was just that CRUNCH. And seeing it when I pulled it out of my teeth. It was stuck between the right top incisor, and the one next to it. I'll send you a picture of the piece I pulled out."

"Okay. But I won't look until I hang up. You know how I am with doing more than one thing on my phone."

I heard the picture come in, but kept chatting. Tomorrow, I will share the picture(s), and the rest of the conversation.

I'm not sure you're ready for this. I certainly wasn't...

Friday Night Harem Fatigue

Friday evening. 4:52 p.m. Hick had just arrived home, and plopped down in his recliner. His phone rang. Of course I knew the general identity of the caller before he even answered. My precognition was confirmed when Hick muttered, before answering:

"Oh, no. Now what do YOU want???"

I got the gist of it as he took the call.

"Hello. HELLO. Yes. This is me. Okay. That's fine. We'll get to it. There's a lot we have to do. Okay. That's fine. Bye."

"Your Harem, right? Which one was this?"

"The crazy lady with the dog. She said she'd be moved out by the 23rd. She called to say she's moving a bunch of stuff this weekend, and might be able to get it all out by then. Who knows when she'll really be out. We'll have to pull up the carpet and clean up her apartment before putting down laminate flooring."

"And she had to tell you NOW. Because she couldn't have mentioned it to you at lunch yesterday. Or waited until Monday if she's completely out. It's definitely something that needs to be brought to your attention on a Friday evening. Just in case she gets moved out by Sunday, and you want to rush over there to start working."

"Yeah. I don't know what them women think."

Well. That will be one less member of Hick's Harem to call on a Friday night. Until he rents the apartment again, anyway...