Last Minute Info Before the Cheap House Auction

Thursday morning at Thevictorian Central...

Hick is in a tizzy over this Cheap House auction. He keeps reminding me he'll need a check Friday, in case he wins the bidding. 

"I guess they'll take a personal check. I don't know why they wouldn't. I haven't been to one of these foreclosure auctions. Just the delinquent tax sale auction. But that's run by the county, and not a bank."

Hick has also decided he won't have time for lunch Friday. Well. For a packed lunch that he usually takes on Friday to his SUS2.5. 

"Yeah, don't pack me no lunch. I won't have time."

"The auction is at 1:00. How will you not have time? When you go to the Senior Center, you eat at 11:00. I don't know why you couldn't eat lunch and then drive over to the courthouse. It's not even 10 minutes away."

"Well... I'll have to take time to close up my shop. I'll get a burger or something."

Heh, heh. Sounds like Hick would just rather have a burger. Which I think would take more time than microwaving a Pizza Pocket and opening a mini bag of chips. But I'm not one to interfere with Hick's auction prep juju.

Hick called me at 10:10.

"I got a call from Loan Officer about that foreclosure. He said they will start the bidding at $18,300. I told him we weren't going to bid over $18,000. He said to show up anyway. That if nobody bids on it, they will sell it to us for the $15,000 we originally agreed on. I told him okay, but that I wasn't bidding at $18,300. So we'll see what happens."

"I imagine somebody will be there, and bid on it. That won't break my heart, heh, heh. We only need one flippin' house at a time. You have enough work at Lap House to let people work there."

"We're on the way home with a load of junk from the basement right now."

"Why do WE need more junk?"

"It's lumber, Val. I'm putting it under the lean-to at the barn."

"I guess that's okay. Did you know your furnace guys showed up at The Pony's house?"

"Yeah. I gave them the wrong address."

"That doesn't surprise me!"

"Me either. One of the furnace guys didn't show up, and my buddy said he really had another job he needed to get done today. So they're coming back tomorrow. They got a little done while they was there."

"Hopefully they go to the right house tomorrow!"

"They will. They've been there now."

It's a dangerous situation for the next 24 hours! Hick is walking around with two blank checks! One for the furnace guy, and one for the foreclosure auction. I hope there's not more than one house being auctioned!

If I Was The Pony, I Might be Cursing My Flippin' Life, and My Heritage

Thursday morning, I got a text shortly after 8:00, from The Pony, questioning our Errand Day plans. Rather than texting back, I decided on a quick call.

"No, I don't really need any groceries. We'll just do the bank and gas and lottery."

"Guess who just knocked on my door right before 8:00."

"Oh, no! Your dad?"

"No. It was a furnace company. They asked if this was Thevictorian residence. I said yes, and they said, 'We're here to put in your furnace.' I told them I didn't NEED a furnace. That I already had one, but I could believe my dad sent them here. The guy pulled out his phone, and said, 'Well, this is the address, and it even says on the corner.' I told him, 'You need the OTHER corner, at the end of this block.' So they went down there to the flip house."

"Of course. That's your dad!"

"Yep. I saw the guy's phone. Dad had given them MY address!"

"What a pleasant way to wake up. I hate it when people knock on my door!"

"I had just gone to lie down in my second bedroom. You know how it is. Sometimes you just like a change when you're laying around the house doing nothing."

"I figured there would be things like this, knowing your dad, with Lap House so close to your house."

Anyhoo... I knew Lap House was getting the furnace on Thursday. I sent a check with Hick for payment. Renovations are underway. Maybe The Pony should be prepared for tradesmen traffic.

Declarations May Vary

I feel like an overstuffed horse's rumpus! Hick keeps baiting and switching me! It's all about Cheap House. Hick tells me what he thinks that property is worth, and what he'd do to it. I gobble up that info, trusting Hick's judgment. He's done pretty well, you know, flipping houses and putting money in our socks buried in the backyard...pockets...bank account...investment CDs. But then when I least expect it, SWITCH SWITCH SWITCH! Ouch! That smarts!

Tuesday, The Pony came out to celebrate Mother's Day. We picked up Chinese food. I didn't have to do anything. But then Hick said we would have a talk about Cheap House over the meal. The auction is FRIDAY. The Pony already flipped on me, and said it's okay to buy Cheap House, as long as Hick doesn't pay more than our original offer (of $15,000) to the Savings & Loan doing the repossession. And Hick had declared, only a week ago, that on second inspection, he felt like we should only pay $10,000.

Oh, but on Tuesday, Hick was pushing for paying $18,000, upon which he would put about $12,000 to $15,000 into it, just tearing it down to the studs and fixing a hole in the floor and putting in windows where they were broken and boarded.

"WAIT! That means we'll have over $30,000 in it! That's what I thought we could sell it for, really quick. To another flipper. Now you're doing flipper work, when THEY should have to be the ones to put in windows and get it livable. AND we'll be paying insurance on it, and utilities. There's no reason to have TWO flip houses at the same time, when you barely have time to work on ONE. We've had Lap House for TWO MONTHS, and all you've done is turn on gas and electric and water and get insurance and clean a little junk out of the basement. IN TWO MONTHS."

"Val. I can't do it all myself. I'd hire somebody to tear it out."

"That's MORE money. And that's my point. YOU don't have time to do it. You're saying what I just said, like that's some kind of excuse for putting more money into this house."

"Val. We could still sell it for about $40,000. We'd still be making money. I won't turn on the utilities. But we'll have to get insurance, yeah."

"That doesn't seem to me to be a good deal. It will take more of your time away from Lap House, which is where we'll make the money, selling a finished house. I don't think dragging it out, putting time and money into Cheap House, just to make $5000 each (probably less with commissions), is worth all the trouble."

"Mom. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money!"

"Not for everything he'll have to do. He's got too much going on."

"Val. You can't make that kind of money on interest these days."

"You don't have to DO anything to make interest! It takes up none of your time to keep you from your store or the apartments or your side jobs or LAP HOUSE."

"Mom. Really. I'm fine with spending $18,000 and gutting the house. It will still make money."

So here we go again. Val is the odd gal out. I can only hope that there are bidders who want to pay more for this unadvertised house on the courthouse steps. I doubt that Hick is the only flipper that Loan Office notifies of these things.

Perhaps Being Right is Not Sufficient

Val was a victim of road rage on Monday. Or perhaps she was the perpetrator! Here's what went down...

I was over on the back side of Sis-Town, at a 4-way intersection. It has four stop signs, no light. Each direction has a straight lane, and a left turn lane. It can sometimes be hectic if there are eight cars waiting their turns. But Monday, there were only TWO cars. A white sedan on my left, coming from the highway, or a convenience store thereby. And T-Hoe.

We were both going straight across the intersection. White Sedan was headed towards the industrial park. I was continuing along an outer route that would eventually bring me to my bank and an intersection with a light. The time was around 12:10. So not really a rush hour.

We both arrived at the same time. I didn't see White Sedan rolling on, as people will do when they're in a hurry. Nor was I rolling. I just decided to make my move. Vaguely remembering way back when I was studying for my driver's license test, how at such an intersection, with no clear idea of whose turn it was, that the car on the right has the right of way. Did I imagine that? I think it's a thing. And I was the car on the right. So I went.

Well! White Sedan must never had read that instruction manual! White Sedan came at me, and HONKED really loud and long. It seems to me that was a bit uncalled-for, what with White Sedan being in a position that would T-bone T-Hoe if he hadn't braked. Meaning I was already in the middle of the intersection by the time White Sedan came at me. Otherwise, White Sedan would have been slamming into my front bumper if he had been there first and I intruded.

I had nothing to prove. I was in no particular hurry. Had White Sedan already been rolling, or had squealed to a stop as if in a rush, I would have waited for White Sedan to go first.

Anyhoo... I got an earful of horn, and I'm not exactly sure why.

An Ugly Reared Head Worms Its Way In

Hick had a tale when he got home from his SUS2.5 Saturday evening.

"You'll never guess who come in my store this afternoon. BEV! She brought a gallon of paint, and said, 'Should I give this to you, or Old Buddy?' I was busy and didn't pay much attention to her. I said, 'Old Buddy, I guess.'"

"So you wouldn't even take the paint?"

"She said, 'I thought you might want to use it for one of your houses. Then said, 'Nick wants to know if you buy shotguns.' I said, 'Yeah. I buy shotguns.' I walked off. I had customers. She left, and Nick never come in."

"I KNEW you'd take them back! What's Old Buddy gonna do with it? You'll use that paint."

"Maybe."

"What color is it?"

"It's kills paint. To cover stains and stuff. So probably white."

"Dang it! You're letting them come crawling back, after how they treated you!"

"Well, I didn't pay her no attention. I was busy."

Hick was happy, though, despite the return of Bev. He had a good sales day.

"I got a good compliment from an old man today. He come in to buy some ammunition. He said he came to me because of my customer service. He could have gone somewhere else and got it cheaper, but he likes the way I treat people."

"Oh, no! God wouldn't like that! You're charging more for it than it's worth!"

"Heh, heh! That's what I should have told Bev: 'Yeah, I buy shotguns, but I won't buy one from you because I might charge too much when I sell it.' I didn't think of it at the time."

A Typical Mother's Day for Val

The day started like any other, with Hick sitting on the long couch before leaving around 6:00 a.m. I was on the short couch. But this day, Hick said, "Happy Mother's Day."

"Thank you."

"I seen you got a nice card yesterday from Genius."

"Yes. Right on time. Pony is bringing one on Tuesday, when we have our 'celebration' with Chinese food."

"When I cook them pork steaks?"

"No! I am NOT doing any cooking on Tuesday! It's my Mother's Day! You are cooking the pork steaks tonight. I'll bake the beans, and I've thawed out the hash brown casserole to have with it, too. So this will be three meals worth, for Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday. Tuesday is Chinese. I'm not doing anything but eating."

"Oh. Okay."

Of course we rescheduled Mother's Day for Hick to have his day of business Sunday at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). That was fine with me. All my days are pretty much the same.

Then started a discussion of the tests Hick had on Friday, to prepare for the surgery he had to postpone until August due to his x-rays of not-pneumonia and uncollapsed lung. It was a Transthoracic Echocardiogram Test. Which Hick referred to as a stress test. All I know is that he had three tests scheduled that day, spread out over three hours, to determine if he is sound for surgery.

"I couldn't believe the cost of that test! It was $17,000-something!"

"No, Val. It was $13,400."

"I don't know where you get that! I just looked at it yesterday when you gave me the receipt for the $150 copay. It was $17,000-something."

"Nooo. I looked at it when they handed it to me. It's $13,400."

"I'm so tired of you doing this to me! I looked right at it. Then I threw it in the trash. I don't really want to get up right now, but later I'm going to dig it out to prove it to you."

"I can go get it right now. On my way out. Where is it?"

"You'll never find it. You can't find anything! It's in the wastebasket. Come back over here and stand in front of me."

"I don't need to do that. I know where the wastebasket is."

"That's surprising! But you won't look in the right spot unless you're lined up like you're looking right at it. It's HERE! At about the 4:00 area. Folded in quarters like when you handed it to me."

"What are you gonna say when you see it's $13,400?"

"Nothing. Because I know it was $17,000-something."

Surprisingly enough, Hick found the discarded receipt. Even more surprising, he actually brought it to show me:

"Let me see!"

"Huh. I guess I read it wrong."

"Reading it wrong is not a big deal. It's how you always treat me like I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN', when I'm actually right, and you are just figuring I won't bother to check on your 'facts' that you use to prove me wrong. Maybe next time, you'll listen to me."

At 7:22, Hick must have been feeling guilty. He sent me a text.

"I'm sorry o didn't get you a card but I do love you happy mothers day." With a big emoji kind of picture with flowers that said Happy Mother's Day.

Never mind that Hick still has time to get me a real card by Tuesday. I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen. It's no big deal to me if I get a card or gift. 

The best part about this Mother's Day is that I got VALidation.

There's a Pole and the Bucket

A few weeks ago, I parked in my rightful handicap space beside the Gas Station Chicken Store, and noticed something new. Some type of maintenance paraphernalia was in my path to the door. 

This is unlike Man Owner, to leave equipment lying around. I've often seen him sweeping up, or tossing out salt for a snow forecast, or taking trash to the dumpster. I can't imagine anything that would cause him to leave tools outside where a customer could trip and take a tumble and get an irreputable injury attorney to sue for his livelihood.

Of course I did not plan to lie down beside those items and holler, "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" That would be silly. Because I really CAN'T get up! I just took a picture, because I want to know what this is.

I walk by that post all the time, sometimes putting a hand on top to steady myself, like it's a complementary industrial cane put there just for my ambulatory needs. The top is sealed with concrete. I've never noticed any openings down the sides. Yet it looks like that hose might be attached.

Is this some kind of a hand-held pump? Does it pull something out of the pipe, and pump it into the bucket? Eww! Is is sewer? Is it a way to get water outside? Does it pull a sample from the gas tanks? 

I took the picture so I could ask Hick what's the purpose of this contraption. Yet I keep forgetting to ask Hick. He will not like being disturbed while he's at his SUS2.5. So I'll ask when he gets home.

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Hick was stumped! Said he didn't know what this thing was. He's never seen anything like it. His best guess was that maybe Man Owner was using it to flush out the downspout on the corner of the building. Like the contraption might blow air up in the downspout to dislodge something blocking it. But it still doesn't explain the bucket. Unless he could suck water up in it, to blast out into the downspout. The bucket was empty when I walked by.

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