Are you one of those people who can't ride roller coasters because of a heart condition? Because if you are, you may want to sit over there under that tree and have a frozen lemonade rather than risk the ups and downs and twists and turns of today's story.
Friday was a hard-earned day off from school, since we stayed late for conferences two nights that week. I know I told Hick that I was off. I told him last weekend, when he didn't get T-Hoe's gasping tire fixed so that it doesn't lose five pounds of air a week. So when Hick claimed, on the bed-edge, after waking me from a deep slumber at 6:00 a.m. on my day off, that he didn't know I was off, I begged to differ.
I didn't argue strongly, because hey, he didn't know, so he hadn't taken the day off to be with me like he always does, on every day off, ever, to horn in on my free time. I even managed to go back to sleep, probably something to do with getting home at 10:30 the night before, what with picking up The Pony at his Halloween dance. By the time I did a load of laundry, opened the mail, wrote out some bills, and made a shopping list, it was going on 11:00. I jumped in the shower and left for town. The Pony elected to stay behind and lay on the basement couch playing computer games. Shocker there...
My town trip was fairly uneventful, though somewhat informative, because the Save A Lot clerks were all a-twitter with news that one of them had come up short yesterday! By a whole dollar! They were castigating an employee who was not present, agreeing that when OTHER PEOPLE are on your register, you can't really be held accountable. I slid my debit card through the dealy-bobber, much to their relief, and they were so grateful that they cautioned me, "Don't use your debit at Dairy Queen! A guy was in here yesterday, and his identity was stolen, and he had to get a whole new card, and the bank did an investigation, and it happened at Dairy Queen!" So I told them about Genius's identity theft, and the problem it caused with our taxes not being able to file electronically. We do that, you see, in Backroads. Bumpkins helping bumpkins. Maybe I should start a fundraiser for that, and stand outside the gas station chicken store with an empty ice cream tub, and collect money to help with cash register overages for my gals.
I picked up the Hardee's burger that The Pony had requested for lunch, and some chicken tenders for myself, and headed back to the ol' homestead. Time was ticking away on my precious day off. It was now 12:45, and I still had to put away the frozen groceries, toss in more laundry, and wash a week's worth of dishes that my nonexistent dishwasher had so callously ignored since Monday night. I think Hick was about to get creative like the Hecks on The Middle when they gave Mike's dad their old dishwasher that contained all of their dishes, resulting in Axl drinking soda out of a measuring cup, and Frankie serving coffee in a tall glass boot to an old lady applying to be Aunt Edie's caregiver. I could imagine Hick with a grout trowel, trying to skim some No Sugar Added Blue Bunny Banana Split Ice Cream into his mouth.
So I was a little preoccupied as I drove up our gravel road, nearing home, passing in front of the field wherein looms the BARn. Something caught my eye. You know how your subconscious notices when things are amiss. And...
WHOOPSIE! Too long. You'll have to come back on Sunday evening to see what Val saw.