Fe Fi Fo Fum...I'm About To Let the Blood of Hick, Who Shoulda Kept Mum

Here is our new Frig. Frig II, we’ll call him.

He’s missing a meat tray slide-out thingy compared to the original Frig, and a little shelf on top of the icemaker. But other than that, he’s serviceable. More so without the help of Hick. Once he got it delivered and plugged in and the ice maker hooked up to the water supply…I was done with him.

Here’s the thing. Hick was a big help when The Original Frig went kaput. He unhooked the ice maker and carted the contents of freezer and refrig to the BARn, where our old, battered refrigerator resides. We looked at Frig II, and I told Hick I was not pleased with the shelf locations, and that I wanted to adjust them before putting stuff in. There was a door shelf that was not at all functional for me, being right under the above shelf, leaving contents out of sight, and in an awkward, low-down position.

The Pony and I took off to do the shopping, since we would have a cool place to put them when we returned. As I pulled into the garage, we saw Hick sitting in his Gator in the front yard. After a bit, he came to the garage and opened T-Hoe’s hatch.

“Not everything goes in. I have some stuff for school, and stuff for my mom.” You would think Hick would wait there until I got out and walked around to tell him what to leave. But no. Hick took that as a sign that he was off the hook, and disappeared. So The Pony and I carried the stuff in as usual.

Inside the homestead, I opened Frig II and saw that Hick had left the shelves the same, and had brought back items from Battered Frig. So I couldn’t put my new stuff away until I took out the old stuff, and had The Pony lower two shelves. And while we were at it, we took out six past-dated items that Hick had moved in. I had told him that when I was ready to deal with the BARn stuff, everything was not going back in.

But that’s not my only gripe with Hick. Shocker, I know. When the movers brought in Frig II, Hick came to the bedroom to break a little news to me.

“The new refrigerator has a ding in the door. You can have 10% off the cost, or they can order a new door and bring it out and put it on.”

“Since I paid so much for that refrigerator, I expect it to be a new refrigerator. I want the new door. I’ll be home over Christmas. They can bring one out and put it on.”

“Okay.”

Well. You know how the best-laid plans of Val often go awry. Later in the day, after the movers had left, just before I went to do the shopping, Hick confessed.

“I took the 10% off. It’s just a little dent. Right there. On the edge of the door. You can hardly see it.”

“But I CAN see it. It looks like a snakebite. Two dents. An inch apart.”

“I’ll get the money back.”

“How are you going to do that? Did they give you a check? Something on paper?”

“No. You have to go down to the store, and they’ll give the money back.”

“YOU have to go down to the store. I hope there’s some record of it besides your word against the movers. And I don’t want store credit. I want the money back. Since I bought a damaged refrigerator.”

Seriously. I feel like I sent Hick to sell a cow, and now there’s a beanstalk sprouting in my front yard.