Handicap Parkers of a Different Sort

Now I must form a special task force within my Handicap Parking Police. A new species of rumpusholes has emerged. Must be some type of weird mutation. I assume that at one time they were regular handicap parker rumpusholes, but somehow lost the use of their vehicles.

The Pony and I were making a quick stop at Save A Lot on Errand Day. There were a couple items I was looking for, like sardines in mustard sauce, and animal cookies for Hick's weekend lunches. I also wanted some scratchers from their machine. 

BOTH HANDICAP SPACES WERE TAKEN!

I had to park T-Hoe in the second row out in front of the store. The Pony volunteered to run in for me, so I said just to get my scratchers. No need to make The Pony actually shop. As I was waiting, that black car pulled in and parked. It was not in a space. Just parked there, at the end of a row. Shame on them. But we're not here for a random shaming today. We are concerned with what's on the other side of that black car. Over in the two handicap spaces.

Those two people have parked their rumpuses on the concrete bumper of my rightful handicap space! And they KNEW what they were doing! Way down past that other black car is the entrance where I came in, because the main entrance was blocked by a truck pulling out. The guy of this duo was actuall sitting on the OTHER handicap parking space bumper. Both people looked at me as I drove by, with my bright blue handicap placard swinging.

After we parked, The Pony went in and I watched that dude get up and move over by his woman. Oh, I COULD have steered T-Hoe into one of those handicap spaces, rather than driving by. Hopefully stopping before T-Hoe's grill bashed them in the face. They could have scurried away. But that would have been a rumpushole move by ME. And I try to reign in such drastic behavior, no matter how satisfying it would be.

They weren't homeless people with all their belongings on their back, or in a borrowed cart. Just two shoppers who'd been to the Dollar Store that's also in this mini mall, who had stopped to have a smoke and check their phone. Probably on the way back to an apartment building down the street. If the guy had bothered to move when he first saw me, I could have parked in the space he vacated.

The Universe is getting quite creative in ways to thwart my parking.

A Harem-Adjacent Friday Night for Hick

Hick's Harem didn't call Friday night! Or if they did, I was not privy (heh, heh, I said 'privy') to such information. Hick wasn't home! So I couldn't eavesdrop hear if such a call was received. No, Hick didn't arrive until 7:10. He missed 10 minutes of his Gold Rush show! And do you know why? Hick was servicing his Harem!

"Val i have two guys moving two couches in the apartments they are meeting me at 6 so it will be 7-730"

That's the text I got at 2:07, alerting me that Hick would be late, so I knew to hold off making his supper at the regular time. I knew he had been talking about switching couches in two of the senior apartments. But I didn't know why he needed guys to meet him, when he had his work crew of Old Buddy and HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) doing the work with him through the week. 

At 5:00, I sent Hick a text letting him know that I had already charged Pepper's skunky collar, so he didn't take the collar off when he got home later. Hick replied right away, so I figured he was at his Friday afternoon bull-shooting session with his buddies, and not driving or making deals at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) until 6:00. I called him.

"What couches are you moving?"

"I told you about taking the one out of the dog lady's apartment, and trading it with another gal."

"I know. But why are you doing it now? Why do you need two guys instead of Old Buddy and HOS?"

"Because Old Buddy cain't lift his end of it. He tried on Thursday, but couldn't do it. I'm not going to hurt myself trying to lift it. So I got these two young boys. Well. One is 18, and one is 19. They buy stuff from me at my store. I said I had to move two couches, and they said they'd do it. I have to wait, because one doesn't get off work until 6:00. And the other one actually works as a mover! They was gonna do it on Saturday, but I wanted to get it over with today, and not after a whole day at my store."

That was good enough for me. It seemed logical. Which a made-up story from Hick would not. When he got home (and during a commercial), I heard more.

"Them young boys moved the couches like they was nothin'!"

"Did you pay them?"

"Yeah. I gave them each $50, because they're young and trying to make money, and they drove all the way over here from Bill-Paying Town on a Friday evening."

"That's fair. I'm glad you paid them." (Not MY money, heh, heh!)

"They was happy to help me out. They're good kids. And respectful. You don't see much of that these days."

"Leave it to your Harem to take up your time on a Friday night, whether they're actually calling you or not."

"Heh, heh! Some of 'em was standin' around watchin'. The boys saw them. Next time them boys come in, I'm gonna say, 'Remember those old ladies watching us move the couches? My wife calls them my Harem.' They'll get a kick out of that."

Yeah. Hick's Harem is still kickin'.

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."