Remember how I'm pretty sure Hick is trying to kill me? Well...I'm still pretty sure. But it seems like he's trying a new tactic, eschewing gaslighting for kindness!
It's time to renew T-Hoe's license plates. Of course, that has always been Hick's job, even though on occasion, he has pawned it off on me. But he DID say on Wednesday night that he would get T-Hoe inspected on Thursday. That's the first step, you know. Gotta have an inspection to renew the license. I secretly think Hick likes taking vehicles to get inspected, or get the oil changed, because it gives him time to sit in the waiting room of the Walmart Automotive Department, and stir up crap on Facebook. Like when he saw that electrical outlet with exposed wires.
Anyhoo...when I got out of the shower around noon, I saw that the Inspection Fairy had been here, and left the paperwork on the kitchen counter, in the one space I claim for myself, to prep meals. At least Hick got it done on time, and didn't wait like the last time he sent ME, to pay the late fee. AND he had remembered to move the seat back to my settings, so I didn't break my back getting in where his stubby legs had been driving. Sure, he'd left an empty water bottle where I put my 44 oz Diet Coke. But I set it out along the garage wall, with four other water bottles of the same origin. In doing so, I noticed that T-Hoe was MOSTLY CLEAN! Only a thin coating of fresh dust. Hick had taken him through a car wash! What a sweet thing for my Sweet Baboo to do, without me asking.
Off I went to Save A Lot, for assorted items I don't get at Walmart, and a deli-style pizza to bake at home for Hick's supper. Because he snapped at that, in a choice of pizza, big salad, bratwursts, or terrible tater. The parking at Save A Lot was a pain, because it was truck day for The Dollar Store next door, and the exit end of the parking lot was blocked by a semi. I maneuvered T-Hoe (without a backup beeper, you know) until I got turned around, and pulled through to a facing-out parking spot on the other side of the row.
To keep from pushing the cart back in, I looped four plastic bags over my arm, and carried the pizza, flat, in its box. I already had the clicker out to unlock T-Hoe, and raise the back hatch. And raise the back hatch. And RAISE THE BACK HATCH!
What in the Not-Heaven? That hatch was not raising. That happens every now and then. I've begged for a new battery in my clicker for a couple of years. I don't know how to pry it open. That's a man job, and Hick has been derelict in that duty. I balanced the pizza on my bag arm, and pressed the release button with my fingers. Nope. Not happenin'. T-Hoe sounded like he wanted to lift his hatch, but he didn't. I know I heard the gears grinding. It worked yesterday. Did I get something closed in the crack? Why wouldn't it open? Maybe I didn't push hard enough. I put that pizza on the back seat. The Pony seat. Kept the bags on my right arm, and went back to push that release button with my left hand. With my right hand. Left again.
Well, crap! Then I tried a last resort. I reached to open the glass part of T-Hoe's hatch. Like the upper half of the hatch. SO THAT'S IT! The glass part of the hatch was open! But being held down by gravity. So it looked like it was closed. But it was unlatched. How did THAT happen? Oh, I don't know...HICK was the last one to drive T-Hoe, only a few hours earlier. By now I was sweating like Hick wearing an OU cap. Rivulets running down my scalp. I felt faint. Discombobulated from the heat. But I still had strength to let Hick know that I knew that he was most likely trying to kill me.
"Anything else you want to tell me that you did to my car?"
"No...just got it inspected. With an oil change."
"That's all. You're sure?"
"Because I just spent five minutes trying to get the back hatch open, while juggling four bags and your pizza! It wouldn't open for anything! THEN I found out the glass hatch was open. Not latched."
"Huh. Them boys working on it must have hit something wrong."
Or in other words, Hick resolved the issue by declaring it was NOT-HICK.