A Val's work is never done. She's a mixer, she's a nixer, she's a legal tort fixer, she types her blog posts on the run.
Seriously. Hick springs work on me at the last minute, like it's my JOB or something! Tosses a wrench into my well-oiled machine, after a leisurely day of doing nothing, footloose and fancy free, the only chore looming on the horizon being Hick's supper. I was halfway done with that. I'd promised him spaghetti, so I mixed his sauce in the morning. Don't think it took a lot of effort. I use a canned sauce, and add hamburger, mushrooms, minced garlic, a packet of sugar free sweetener, and grind in some black pepper.
Yes, all I had to do was boil up some noodles, and pop frozen garlic toast into the oven. Then I could put away leftovers and clean up the mess. All told, it only took 45 minutes out of my evening. I sat down on the short couch to rest before making my own supper. I don't like spaghetti.
Well. First cat out of the bag, Hick said that HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) has a buddy in a little pickle, currently cooling his heels in the Crossbars Hilton, wanting his wife to sell some of his guns for cash. Even though I wasn't wearing shoes, I think my heels could have carved out ruts in the blacktop for forty feet, as I screeched on my brakes at that prospect.
"Surely you're not gonna buy those guns! What if they're stolen? What's the guy locked up for, anyway? If it's for theft, I'm pretty sure you don't wanna get involved in this."
"I don't know. I can get a picture of his wife's driver's license on my phone, to prove she sold them to me."
"All that proves is that you took a picture of her driver's license! Why don't they just pawn them, if they're legal?"
"Because I'll pay them more money. He might need the money to get out."
"That's HIS problem. I really don't think you should do this. I sounds shady."
"The guns are at his dad's house now. So the wife will have to get them from him. He's not gonna give them to her if they're not legal."
"Or he WILL, to get rid of evidence! So he doesn't get caught with them!"
"I don't know. First I'll see if she comes up with them."
Yeah. I'm a NIXER. Doing my best to put the kibosh on gun-running. Then Hick springs the latest chore on me.
"I've got the papers from the lawyer. He forgot to put the property description on the form This Guy has to sign. I'm not taking the papers back to him. I said you can write it in. You have good writing. Here's the form. Right there, between those paragraphs. Write in the description from THIS page."
"How in the world am I going to do that? And file it in court? I don't think so."
"Your writing is way better than mine. You don't want ME to write it."
"Can't I just type up the paragraph, print it, cut it out, and lay it in the space and make a new copy?" [Don't even suggest scanning it and inserting the description and then printing it. For me, that would be like recovering the original moon landing technology, and flying back there overnight.]
"Yeah. I guess you can. But it might be easier for you to just type that whole page over and put it in there."
"Well. I guess I can do that. When do you need it?"
"It's already 7:30! I have other things to do, you know."
"I'm sure you can find the time. How long can it take?"
That's easy for him to say. I still had to make my own supper, clean up, eat it, type up two blog posts to publish the next day, and find the pack of paper I needed for my printer, since it ran out with the boys' letters Thursday night.
FYI, that little task took 43 minutes. Would have been less, but it took forever to figure out why I couldn't get the same spacing. I had the fonts figured out, and the size, and when to center and when to justify the left margin... but that darn spacing wouldn't decrease. It was on single space, but still too far apart. After much trial and error, I figured out that I was spacing after each paragraph, so each time I'd spaced to start a new line, to make my sentences begin and end with the same words as the original form... I was actually double-spacing between lines. Got it fixed! Now the rest of the night is mine! Such as it is, here in my lair at 11:19 p.m.
A Val's work is never done until Hick-given projects are complete.