A Loss of Savings

Welp! We're not saving daylight anymore. I have only T-Hoe's clock left to change. Sometimes I leave it for a day or two, just to think about what time it would have been last week. The living room clock was a problem, because Hick has stacked a box and some clean folded clothes in the path along the couch. Like a barricade! I managed to grab the clock off the wall by standing behind the couch, but I couldn't balance well enough to extend my arm and position it on the nail in the wall hang it back. Hick had to do that part before he left home. 

Now I will have to go to town earlier. I don't want to drive into the setting sun, barely able to see oncoming traffic in my lane! And I don't want to leave any later, because then it would be almost dark coming home.

It's the time of year when you think of more substantial suppers, served shortly after 5:00. That's when my dad got home from work. 5:10. So it seems like suppertime to me. Not 6:30 or 7:00, as Hick and I tend to stretch it out during the summer. He likes to work outside. Then wants something lighter, because he's been in the heat.

We finally got a cold snap. There was a freeze warning last night, and it's 43 degrees now, shortly before noon. Supper is going to be Shake N Bake pork chops, Stove Top Stuffing, green beans with bacon and onion, and biscuits. Plus sliced homegrown tomatoes. One of Hick's buddies has continued having tomatoes ripen. We have four left on the counter. I'm guessing they will be the last for this season.

I'll settle into a cozy groove until December 21st. At which time I'll be looking forward to spring, with minutes of daylight increasing every day. Of course there will be snow and ice to fret about in January and February. But daylight keeps on expanding.

Hick's "Office Hours" Seem to be Only a Suggestion

Hick continues to be popular with the elderlies who inhabit "his" senior apartments. Even though he has his personal phone number, and hours when he is on the premises, posted on the door of his office... the residents only utilize half of that info.

Thursday night, Hick had another phone call. At least this old gal chose a reasonable time to intrude. It was 7:00, after supper time, and before sleeping time. I heard parts of it from the kitchen. I could hear a woman's voice (Hick has his phone volume REALLY high), but not her side of the conversation. Of course further investigation was necessary. No "Jolene" is gonna steal MY man who annoys me so much.

"What was THAT all about? Sounds like someone thinks you are playing favorites."

"No. This Lady wanted to know if she can have a cat. I told her she cain't just have a cat because somebody gives her a cat."

"Do other people have cats?"

"Yes. No. It's actually a dog. One lady has a little chihuahua dog. Another one had a dog when I took over, but she has moved out. So I was telling This Lady that first of all, she has to have a note from a doctor saying she needs the cat as a comfort animal. If she gets that, then I have to have a note from the vet saying the cat has had all of its shots. The dog lady gave me all that for her little dog. But no, they just cain't have a pet because they want one."

"Did she think the dog lady is getting special treatment? Does she get along with her? Or is she trying to stir up trouble?"

"No. She just wants a cat. Actually, This Lady is really nice. She's not as old as the rest of them. She's a little slow. But she's friendly, and she helps them. She goes to visit with them, and she picks up things if they ask her to get them something. If she gets me the doctor and vet notes, she can have a cat. But I don't expect that to happen. I was just explaining to her."

I guess you just don't know unless you ask. Though This Lady might have saved her asking for regular business hours. It's not like she was going to immediately get a cat at 7:00 p.m. on a Thursday.

A Halloween Tradition

We don't expect any trick-or-treaters tonight. Since we moved out here, we've only had ONE child show up. When the kids were younger, we were usually not home. We took them to town to Grandma's house, and to relatives, and to a couple streets around their daycare worker's little cottage. As they got older, we'd get candy to have on hand while we were home. Of course, WE ate the candy. 

Then one year, there was a knock on the door. WE HAD NOTHING! You know how candy has a habit of disappearing in a house with Hick and two teenage boys... I left Hick at the door, talking to the young 'un, while I rummaged through the pantry. AHA! There was a mulitpack of Cheetos that The Pony took in his lunch. I grabbed a couple. The kid was happy with it.

Anyhoo... when I was in 10Box last week, I saw that Planter's Peanuts were on a sale table. I picked up a jar, thinking I'd make a concoction that Hick loves. All I needed was some candy corn. Can you believe that there was not a single kernel of candy corn in 10Box? At Halloween? Not even a small bag on the regular candy aisle. 

I told Hick later, and he said, "They had a whole table full of it up front at Walmart yesterday!" Well. I was not in Walmart. I told Hick that if he wanted his special treat, he should go back and get some candy corn. A couple days later, he DID. Three bags of candy corn.

What is this delectable seasonal concoction that Hick raves about?

PAYDAY MIX! 

All it takes it two ingredients...

... and two minutes. It's quite simple. Pour out some candy corn, then some dry-roasted peanuts. They don't have to be brand-name. Shake them together, and you have...

...a delicious treat that tastes just like a Payday candy bar. No fancy bowl needed. Chinese Tupperware will do. 

Of course, if you don't like a Payday candy bar, you won't like this treat. Little did I know that Hick was planning to take it to his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to share. With just his buddies, I think. And not with all his customers. I shudder to think of people dipping their hands into the mix! I said so to Hick.

"I hope you have some kind of plastic cups, or ramekins, to share it. Or shake it into people's hands. I can't imagine all of you with your dirty fingers digging around in there. The thought makes me sick."

From the look on Hick's face, I don't believe he had considered the hygienic angle.

Anyhoo... there's a new recipe for you. I don't know how the cost compares to actual Payday candy bars. I just know that you might only want a little bite, with a couple of candy corn kernels and peanuts, or you might want two or three candy bars worth. It's just a sweet treat to have sitting around for when you want a little something. I don't advise giving it out to trick-or-treaters!

A Meeting About Nothing

I survived! I did NOT lapse into a coma during our annual meeting with our financial advisor. Probably because I was shivering, and the cold kept me conscious. That fine line between chattering teeth, and unconsciousness due to hypothermia. I was wearing a jacket the whole time, too! It was 47 degrees outside, with rain. Inside, it felt like 48.

Anyhoo... when I arrived and parked out front, I noticed SilverRedO parked across the street. I waited a few minutes, thinking Hick would walk over, and we'd enter together. That's how it usually works, with him getting there ahead of me. I tell him there's no need to arrive even one second early, because we never get called back on time. At 2:26, with no sign of Hick, I went inside. He wasn't there. The secretary said, 

"Isn't that Hick's truck over at the pawn shop?"

"Yes. That explains it! A PAWN shop!"

As we watched, Hick started across the street. First towards T-Hoe, and then inside when he noticed I was not there.

"I was playin' the slot machines over at the pawn shop. I won $13. But the lady beside me won $200! She was still playin'."

Our Financial Advisor was on a phone call. That wasn't just stalling. We could hear her through the wall. So we waited. Hick monopolized the conversation, not shy about revealing his ire with the city.

"I was over at Lowe's, and I seen two of the city employees there buyin' lumber. Musta been about $500 worth of plywood and 2x4s. That ain't right! There's a lumberyard right here in town, and that's where the city's business should be going. If I owned that lumberyard, I'd be jumpin' up and down at the city council meeting, askin' why they don't spend my tax money locally, and give ME the business that they just did over in Bill-Paying Town. I might anyway! I own property here in the city. Now they're payin' TWO guys to drive over to another town to buy basic lumber they could get right here.  Plus the gas. The lumberyard delivers. And they're buyin' at least half their vehicles from the Ford dealer over there, when they got a Chevy dealer right here."

Thankfully, FA finished her phone call, and took us back. It was 2:45, for our 2:30 appointment. You can bet I was conscious of the time! Counting the minutes until I was free.

During our meeting, the following topics were discussed:

FA's dog is allergic to chicken, so she buys beef and lamb people-grade dog food for him, which is delivered frozen, to her door. He loves it. She also gives him plain yogurt, rather than pay too much for the probiotics her vet recommends. The dog is healthy, with no problems unless he eats chicken, when he breaks out in hives that take two weeks to go away.

FA agrees with Hick about the city government being somewhat uncooperative in their dealings with property owners. She wants to put a light in the alley between her building and our credit union building, because people go through there all the time, and she doesn't know who will held responsible if there's a crime, or someone gets hurt. She has installed a camera, but only views it when she gets an alarm that there's activity of more than 5 minutes. It's usually somebody who had dropped something, and needs to pick it up. The city owns the alley, according to aerial surveys from the courthouse, but says they don't.

Hick said it was the same way about mowing the lawn behind the senior apartments, and when he argued that his group was not responsible for mowing city property, they finally backed down. Rather than Hick having to pay somebody to mow, like the old guy in charge, the city now uses local prisoners to do that task.

FA said she wanted to make a donation to the senior center, and walked down there after lunch one day with a check, but nobody was around. While looking for somebody in the lobby, she read signs that she was on camera, and felt like she must really look suspicious. Hick said to go at lunch time, when people are there. Or to use the drop box he uses for rent payments.

FA noticed a car out front of her house, and thought it was a stalker. Then she saw two strange dogs, and realized they were taking pictures of the DOGS, not her. She knew a lady looking for those dogs, and messaged her. The dogs took off, and she followed with a bag of treats, updating the lady, who finally found them. FA had no leash or collars, just kept feeding treats to keep the dogs close.

FA bought a trunk full of dog food, 40 lb bags, and took to the city dog pound to donate. They told her just to leave it, but she said NO, that she wouldn't leave it outside to be stolen or get rained on. So they sent two guys to meet her, because she would not go inside, as it's too sad, and she wants to adopt all the dogs. They were shocked at the amount she donated, but happy to get it.

FA bought an acre behind her house, which is just swamp land, but if anybody else bought it, the only place to build a house is the dry area right up next to her back fence. Hick told his tale of HIS LAND that now has a driveway built on it, but nothing can be done about it.

FA goes home for lunch, or runs errands, and can't believe how many people are out and about in the stores and on the streets. Doesn't anybody have regular jobs anymore? And people have been complaining for over two weeks about not having any food because of the government shut down, but their money was not affected for October, so did they just not budget well? They haven't missed any payments yet. FA had a friend having problems, with three kids. FA told her she would help her kids, and to give her a list of what they needed. Stuff like toothbrushes and clothes. But she would not give her money, because she doesn't know if it would really benefit the kids.

FA uses a credit card to pay all her monthly bills, because of the perks like cash-back. Also, she uses coupons and looks for bargains online. She was ordering checks, for $179, and thought it was too much. She found a coupon code and got them for $17. Then told other people so they could get the discount.

FA had ordered furniture for the office from Wayfair. She had to put the chairs together herself. One of them was broken. A leg broke off while she was sitting on it, scooting back. She and her dad repaired it with a metal plate, and saw that it had been cracked from the beginning, with paint inside the crack. Wayfair said they would replace the chair. She said they didn't need to do that, since it was fixed, but they sent her another one anyway. Their main concern was if anybody was hurt when it broke.

FA went to the schools to give a presentation to seniors about financial planning. Before the visit, she asked them to write down how much they thought it would cost to live if they moved out on their own. And how much money they expected to make. Some estimated $1000 a month. One said $20,000! She wondered what kind of life that gal expected. Anyhoo... they hadn't thought about who would be paying their car insurance, gas, cell phone, TV, etc. So they realized that maybe it was better to try and get along with their parents' rules and live at home, rather than declaring they were moving out the minute they graduated or turned 18.

Anyhoo... all this chat went on between FA and Hick, while I basically sat and shivered. I have no ill will towards FA. She's very nice, and if I MUST sit and listen to nothing related to my financial accounts for an hour, I would choose her. This time, we didn't get out until 3:58!!! I was held overtime!

Oh, in the last five minutes, we did a transaction to take out my RMD (Required Minimum Distribution) from one account. 

Only 364 days until our next meeting...

The Yearly Chore

Oh, no! It's that time again! How could a year go by so fast? Maybe I should ask Hick, heh, heh. Since he lost a whole year in a couple minutes.

Monday, I got a call from the secretary at our financial advisor's office. She's a very nice lady. But I did NOT want to talk to her. Of course I answered. Money is involved!

"Hello. Don't tell me it's already that time again! Time for me to come in and sit for an hour and write down that RMD amount, which every year I swear I won't lose, and then call you in February to ask about it for my taxes. It seems like we were just there a couple weeks ago!"

"I know! I feel like the Grim Reaper, making these calls. But it IS time for you and Hick to come in again to review your accounts. Do you have a calendar ready?"

"No. I don't have a calendar, but I have a pen and a piece of scrap paper."

"How about Wednesday? At 2:30?"

"That should be fine. I don't know if Hick has any appointments, but I'll check with him and let you know."

"If it's not convenient, just give me a call, and we'll reschedule."

"I will. I guess I'll have to see you Wednesday..."

Poor gal. It's not her fault that we have to be advised of our investments once a year, and given the opportunity to make adjustments. How can money be so NEEDY??? It just sits there, all imaginary, numbers floating around the invisible waves of the innernets. Then a picture of those numbers gets printed out, and also viewed on a monitor. I just trust that it's there, in about the same amounts, from year to year.

IT'S TORTURE! We could be done in five minutes. But no. I suppose we get billed by the hour. Take it! Take your fee! Just don't hold me hostage for the whole hour!

Our financial advisor retired a couple years ago. He and Hick used to spend the time talking about collectible beer memorabilia, and guns, and real estate. While I was bored out of my mind. Now his daughter has taken over his business. She and Hick talk about guns and real estate. How fair is THAT? How dare she have the same interests as Hick!

Anyhoo... I hope I don't slip into a coma. I'd hate to miss a day of sharing my exciting life with you.

Hick is On-Call, 24/7/365

Hick is not raking in that windfall salary of less-than-$300-a-month by sitting on his rumpus. He is always available for the residents of the senior apartments. Even in his sleep! Monday morning, he revealed before leaving home at 6:00...

"I got a text from an old lady at 2:00 a.m. She don't know how to turn on the heat!"

"What? It's been down in the 40s at night all week. And she's just now asking how to turn on the heat? How hard can that be?"

"Not hard. It's baseboard heaters. They have a dial on each one to set it how hot you want. But I think hers has a thermostat on the wall for the ones in the living room and kitchen."

"Why would she wait until Sunday night at 2:00? Did she think you would rush right over?"

"I don't know."

"Well, why wouldn't she just ask one of her neighbors. That's easy enough. That's what I'd do. But not at 2:00 in the morning. And I'd do it after the first night I was cold! AND, I think I would know the purpose of a thermostat on the wall."

"You never know how them people think."

"Doesn't she get along with her neighbors?"

"Yeah, she gets along. When she's up. She's like you. She stays awake all night, and sleeps in the day. I'll go by this morning and show her how to turn on the heat."

When Hick got home that evening, I asked about the heat lady.

"I went there and knocked on the door, but she never answered. Then later, she sent me a text that she had it figured out, but that the heater in the bathroom didn't work. So I'll have to go by there tomorrow and take a look at it."

Gotta earn that salary!

Hick Has a Bud Light

If I didn't know better, I would think Hick is putting his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) above finishing Bargain House and getting it on the market! Not only did Hick hang a chandelier in his SUS2.5 this week, and put out his precious advertising sign shingle, but he also had a Bud light!

"New light I hung in shop today."

Oh my gosh! I TOLD you that you could probably find a Mogwai in that place! Where to start? Obviously, there's the Budweiser light that Hick hung. He said it's supposed to revolve, but that part of it is broken. Hope he got a discount, heh, heh!

I knew what the six black-handled things were, hanging from the ceiling. They're steels, for sharpening knives. You can't be the wife of a man who was in charge of a butcher-products-manufacturing company and not know that!

I asked about the horn-shaped thingies in front of the light. "Them's powder horns. For black powder rifles. You carry the powder in 'em, to load into the rifle to shoot." No idea if they are actual animal horns, or reproductions.

"What are those things on the right, that look like shoe soles?"

"They're for boots. What I wear on the back of my boots. What do you call those things? Cowboys use 'em to make their horse go faster. SPURS! That's what they are. They're spurs." [I'm glad Hick figured that out, because he doesn't wear boots anymore, and I have never, ever seen him wear spurs. Nor have I ever known him to ride a horse.]

"Why do you have a gun under the light? Is it old? Does it work?"

"It's a pop gun. Like a Daisy BB gun. But it don't shoot nothin'. It just makes a POP sound when you shoot it. Down below, on that sign with all the past sheriffs in the county, is another gun, but it ain't real. It might even be ceramic. It's just decoration made onto the frame of their pictures."

"What's that bright orange circle thing?"

"It's a light! I sell them. They're like emergency lights, for if your car breaks down or something. They give off all kinds of light. They flash, and they spiral."

"Whose head is in the picture?"

"Oh, that's just my buddy who came in while I was taking the picture."

I also see a deer head poking out behind the light, and a fish tail on the right side. Then there are three things hanging under the nose area of the deer head. I zoomed in on the picture, to take a look.

"What are those three things? Forks? They have two tine things, like forks."

"I don't know what you're talking about. There ain't no forks."

"On each side of that red and yellow thing that looks like a fishing bobber."

"Oh. Them's fishing lures."

"Why do they look like forks?"

"I don't know. They do, kind of. But they're all three fishing lures, just in different colors."

I guess maybe I needed one of the 2,347 pairs of binoculars to get a better view...

Hick Hangs His New Love

Be careful what you ask for, people! I have many years of experience requesting things from Hick, so I know how it goes. You rarely get exactly what you asked for. Hick told me he would send a picture of his precious new SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) sign when he hung it up. And he did.

It was before 7:00 a.m. Daylight Savings Time does not start until next weekend. So I got a picture of Hick's sign in the dark:

At least you can see how it hangs out from the front of the doorway. If I was out shopping at a flea market store in the dark, I'm not sure I would enter Hick's establishment. Maybe you can make out the two deer heads inside. Hick got them for decorations, but I'm sure he would sell them. This reminds me of the shop where the bad-inventor dad from Gremlins bought Gizmo, the Mogwai.

Of course I asked Hick for a picture in the daylight. So he sent me this one:

"Sign closed up to close garage door."

Well. That was not exactly what I meant. So I asked a THIRD time, for a picture of his sign hanging in the daylight.

Now we're back to Hick's typical panoramic view of almost everything but the intended subject of the photo. It was a rainy day, not Hick's fault. At least it IS daylight. But if you hadn't seen what the sign looked like before hanging, I doubt you would think it's anything besides a random piece of board, to "stand out" and draw attention, heh, heh.

Hick is Aging Rapidly

Hick has been planning to attend his all-school reunion on Saturday. The school was fairly small to begin with, and reunions for specific graduation years do not have many attendees. So for a while now, they've been holding an all-school reunion. Anybody who attended, no matter the graduation year, and not even if they graduated. 

Hick asked his friends, who had been new teachers when he was in high school, if they were going. The wife said, "No. Not this year. There are too many people that I just don't like, and now I'm at a point where I don't hold my tongue very well." Heh, heh! I know exactly how she feels!

Anyhoo... Hick also said he was driving two of the elderlies from the apartments.

"I'm not sure this one old guy will actually go. He's 87 years old. And the other gal rocked my world at lunch the other day. We were talking about when we were in school, and how we are getting old. She said something about her age, and I said, 'No, you're not that old. I went to school with you. You're just [AGE]. And she said, 'I was born in [YEAR]. So that makes me [AGE].' I got to thinkin', and she was right! All this time I've been thinkin' I was [AGE] years old, but I'm really a year older!"

Heh, heh! I can't wait until Hick's birthday in December, and he realizes he has aged 2 YEARS in only two months.

Hick is a FreebieLoader

Hick and Old Buddy did not work on Bargain House on Thursday. Yes, I'm sure that comes as a shock to you, but not to me. Hick had a paid job for our former Backcreek Neighbors Nick and Bev. They live even farther out in the middle of nowhere now. So far there's no phone service. I don't even know what this job entailed. Sometimes it's easier not to sit through one of Hick's "hicksplanations."

Anyhoo... Hick told me later that Nick offered him a lawnmower.

"I come out to get my trailer around 7:00. I figured as long as I was going out there, I might as well bring back the lawnmower. He said I could have if I wanted it. He wasn't using it."

After a bit of cross-examination, I found out more.

"So he didn't give it to you in place of payment? Because it's going to be hard to give Old Buddy some parts of that lawnmower to pay for his help, heh, heh!"

"Nah. Nick paid me. And gave me the lawnmower, too."

"How much is it worth?"

"What's it worth? Let's see... $250 if it runs."

"Wait! It doesn't even work?"

"Not right now. I have to take a look at it. I have no idea what's wrong."

So basically, Hick took a junk lawnmower off Nick's hands, so he doesn't have to find a way to get rid of it. Anymore.

If anybody can make a lawnmower run, it's Hick. I think T-Hoe's oil change just moved down one notch on Hick's schedule.

Hick's Self-Help Goes Awry

The weather has cooled off, with temperatures dropping into the 40s overnight. Hick and Old Buddy arrived at Bargain House on Monday morning. The NEW furnace wasn't running! Hick called the company that installed it, run by one of his buddies, of course. They sent someone right over.

"For a price, I'm sure!"

"No. They didn't charge nothin'. They found a vacuum hose loose, and hooked it up. It was running when I left, kicking on and off. I'm pretty sure that's all that was wrong with it."

Right after they put it in, I had looked at it. They left a wire clamp off. So I put the wire through and clamped it. I guess while I was doing that, maybe I knocked the vacuum hose loose. But they got it all fixed up."

"You didn't tell them you were messing with it, did you?"

"No! They don't need to know that!"

"So it might have worked if you didn't 'maybe' knock the vacuum hose loose?"

"Yeah. I don't know why it wouldn't of. But still, that wire needed to be clamped."

"But you didn't call them about it when you saw it."

"No. It's just a minor thing. I always look at the work people have done. To see if they did it right. It was easy to fix, so I did it myself."

"And messed up something else, heh, heh!"

"Maybe..."

Anyhoo... the furnace is working at Bargain House.

Another Notch in Hick's Bargain House Belt

Hick has been spreading himself thin these days, and progress on Bargain House has suffered. He DID get the new electric box installed and approved by the electric company. This week, Hick and Old Buddy have been working on the underside of the back porch roof. You may recall that they closed in part of the original back porch to create a laundry/mud room.

That's the state of the under-roof when they started on Monday. I guess you would technically call this a ceiling. On the right is the wall that formed the laundry/mud room.

Here it is completely covered. Nothing that takes a lot of skill. Just mundane fixes that must be done, which take up time. Time which amounts to about 3 hours a day, four days a week, which Hick can spare from is everything-but-Bargain-House schedule.

This is from Wednesday morning, as the sun was coming up. Looks like Hick had to use the light he installed, when putting some trim over the seams. Heh, heh! Since Hick wants things that "draw attention" to the house, maybe he should have hung his chandelier that he put in his storage unit! Makes just as much sense here.

I asked Hick if he was going to paint this "ceiling," perhaps white, to brighten things up. He said no, he didn't plan on painting it. It's just a back porch.

One Man's Junk Brings Other Men's Junk

Hick spent Tuesday afternoon putting a light in one of his storage units. It's not his main storage unit store, the SUS2.5. It's not even the first storage unit store, which is next door. No, Hick put a light in his STORAGE storage unit. It's farther away. 

There's no such thing as a simple answer to a simple question when it comes to Hick's activities. He sent me a picture:

"My light I hung in locker."

"Fancy light for a storage unit."

"It was free. It will get a lot of attention."

Of course I had to get more info when Hick came home.

"Where did you get that chandelier for free?"

"It was in my office at the apartments. That and a big lamp and a lot of stuff. My boss told me to clean it out, that it was all junk, and he didn't care where it went."

"So that's not in your main store."

"No. It's in the one next to Old Buddy. He watches it for me. In fact, I give him 20% of anything he sells. I figure he'll watch the stuff closer if he makes something off of it."

"How many storage units do you have???"

"Three. This one was mainly for storage, but now I have too much stuff, so I sell some of it there."

"You need to STOP! You have way too much junk!"

"I cain't stop, Val. I have to buy more stuff."

"WHY? Just sell what you have, and get down to one unit. Then you don't have to pay for three."

"People bring me stuff, Val!"

"That doesn't mean you have to BUY it!"

"Yes I do! Or they won't sell to me. Like today, I had a guy bring me four fishing poles that were worth $50 apiece. But I got them for $15 apiece, because he had other stuff he wanted to sell. A minnow trap, and two tin men."

"WHAT? So you bought his junk to get the fishing poles? How much did you spend?"

"I gave him $75. I told him it was $15 for the fishing poles, and then I give him another $15 for the rest of it."

"So you paid about $19 for each fishing pole, and took some junk off his hands. What are tin men?"

"Men about two feet tall. Made out of tin cans bolted together."

Yeah. Because that's what people are shopping for these days, I guess. Hick is more likely to sell his FREE chandelier!

"What if somebody wants to buy your light? Would you sell it?"

"Yeah. I'd sell it to them. I'd have to get at least $150 for it."

That would be a pretty good profit for junk. But I don't know if Hick is considering the cost of that extra storage unit every month. I wonder if he sells enough stuff from there to justify the rent. I don't dare bring that up. It's Hick's money...

Hick's Smallest SUS2.5 Shopper

Hick sent me a picture from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) on Sunday afternoon. I had hoped it was the very special sign that he adores so much. But no. It was just a customer. Not that Hick having a customer is such a rare occurrence that he needs to take a photo, heh, heh. He was mainly wanting to show me the customer's companion.

Hick included the caption: "What Jack needs."

I didn't have my glasses. At first I thought it was a little dog wearing an Air Force bomber jacket, with aviator glasses. I thought Hick was holding the dog, and a sword. I figured maybe the customer was trading in a sword for merchandise, since Hick is a well-known barterer. It wasn't until later that evening, when I looked at the photo again, and talked to Hick, that I figured it out.

That's not Hick, but a customer. He's wearing his chihuahua in a bag, which has a U.S. Army logo. There's no sword. It's just the edge of Hick's glass case that is used as a countertop. No aviator sunglasses for that doggie, but "hippie" sunglasses instead. Always wear your glasses, people, before jumping to conclusions, heh, heh!

Hick asked the guy if he could take a picture. Said he wouldn't show his face.

No, my little dog Jack does NOT need anything in that picture. 

He wouldn't wear the sunglasses. And anybody trying to lug him around in a pouch would suffer back problems, because Jack is a sturdy 20+ pounds of solid dog flesh.

It's a cute picture, though.

Hick's Demand Has Dwindled

Hick has not been getting calls from the elderlies lately. I suppose he has met their needs for now. Perhaps they are even taking his advice to get along with each other! 

The last thing Hick fixed was a toilet. Actually, he didn't FIX it, so much as REPLACE it.

"This one gal asked me if she could get a handicap toilet. The tall kind. She said she has trouble getting up from the old one, because it's too low for her. I said that we could probably do that, but I'd have to run it by my boss. Now that we have more money, it shouldn't be a problem."

A few days later, Hick said that it was approved, and he had put in the new toilet.

"She's real happy with her toilet. But NOW she's asking for something else. She wants to know if I can get her a water purifier! I told her probably not. But that I'd ask. I doubt it will be approved. She can buy bottled water if she's so worried about it."

I can understand why that old lady would ask for a water purifier. I don't know how long she's lived there, or in this area in general. My $17,000 house was just two blocks away from the senior apartments. The city water is fine for drinking, but sometimes it has a rusty color. I suppose that's from old pipes, and the hard water in this locale. After all, it DOES sit on top of the lead mines. 

Anyhoo... it used to be a problem sometimes on Saturdays. I don't know why it was always that day of the week. But it was when I wanted to do laundry. I had to make sure the water was running clear before I did a load of whites. 

The Pony also lives a few blocks away. He has bemoaned the loss of our well water for drinking purposes. But again, the water is safe. When it's not, like when there's a broken pipe, the city sends out a BOIL alert. Nobody is going to be poisoned by the water, but at times, it is less than appealing to look at.

No further word on that old gal's water purifier. With Hick's luck, she might be approved for a water cooler thingy, and Hick will have to haul giant bottles of water to it!

Maybe with all his "free" time now, Hick can get an oil change for T-Hoe. D'ya think?

A Sign of the Hick

Hick took his beloved sign to his SUS2.5 on Thursday! That's a day earlier than he told me he wanted it. Said the guy would be there, to get it coated with polyurethane. And that he needed to put two holes in it, to hang it. I asked where he was going to put it.

"I cain't hang it on my walls."

"Why, is there some rule? I thought you already had things hanging on your walls."

"I cain't, because of the garage door."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Because when I close up, the garage door comes down over the walls."

"Still, I don't get it."

"You cain't understand nothin'! I want the sign on my door."

"Why can't you put it on your door?"

"Because, Val, the garage door comes down!"

"Not while you're there doing business!"

"I have to hang it on an arm. To swing out."

"Not getting it. Is the sign supposed to poke out? Perpendicular?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Here. Let me draw a picture!"

Hick scribbled on the back of an envelope, with a bunch of numbers already on it. Of course I couldn't tell what he drew.

"Not helping me."

"Val! Look at the clock over there! That's my door. And look at our door. That's my garage door. The sign will be LIKE THIS!"

I could not understand Hick's gesticulations.

"Do you mean it's poking out?"

"It's on an ARM, Val! It will swing out!"

"Okay. So it's perpendicular. That's what I asked."

"It will be on a bar that will swing out. Then I'll swing it back, so the garage door can come down."

"I think I get it now."

Do you? I guess the sign will be hanging on a bar, poking out from Hick's door, so people walking by will see it. The polyurethane coating will make it waterproof. The bits of color will attract attention. It seems to be the right kind of sign to appeal to Hick's outdoorsmen kind of customers.

Maybe Hick can get a picture when he has the sign hanging.

Val Is Mad as Not-Heaven, and She's Gonna Take it Some More

My daily trip to town is quite hazardous. You'd think town would be the safest part of my drive. In civilization, with smooth pavement wide enough for two vehicles to pass, lanes clearly marked, and traffic signals to control the vehicular flow. But you'd be wrong! I'm actually safer on the narrow gravel road with deep ditches washed out along the sides, and big rocks poking out, and trees preventing any escape.

There's a four-way intersection where the Gas Station Chicken Store sits on one corner, the Liquor Store across from it, Dairy Queen across from the Liquor Store, and a car dealer lot across from Dairy Queen. It's a BIG intersection. Wide. Takes a while to get through it. 

PEOPLE RUN THE RED LIGHT DAILY!

Yes. I'm sure it must be hard to believe that the yahoos of Backroads do not obey basic traffic laws. But it's true! Every day, coming and going, I observe drivers running through the red light. Not just a yellow. The RED light. That means STOP, you know! Because other directions are getting a green light, which means go.

Here's an old picture of the intersection:

You can see that this intersection is about 4 car-lengths wide. That's the Gas Station Chicken Store on the upper right, and the car lot on the upper left. The turn-in to the Liquor Store is on the right, and that's Dairy Queens grassy area on the left.

Anyhoo... I was in this lane this week, first car at the red light, in front of where that truck and trailer are in this old picture. I was waiting to make a left turn to head towards home. I can see the other traffic signals from there. So I can see when they turn yellow, then red. Believe me, I watch those signals. I also watch the cars passing through, because I can't just rely on my own green arrow to tell me when I can go. I have to make sure I won't get bashed by a red-light-runner. It shouldn't have to be this way. I'm sure the drivers understand what a red light means, and it's NOT "Gas it and speed through!"

Anyhoo... I was idling in T-Hoe, waiting my rightful opportunity to proceed through the intersection with a green arrow, watching the signal lights for cross traffic. They turned yellow, then red. A white minivan sped through where that red truck is in this picture, but going the opposite direction. THEN a small white SUV coming from in front of the Gas Station Chicken Store made a left turn directly in front of me. His yellow arrow had already turned to a red circle. Yet still, he drove through. 

My light was already a green arrow as this guy was turning his small white SUV in front of T-Hoe. He was at my left front bumper when I honked. It was not the long "Take your head out of your rumpus and brace yourself because I'm about to slam into you" honk. No. It was three short honks. The "I know you're breaking the law, Rumpushole" honk.

This guy had the audacity to look me right in the eye, with an "How dare you have the audacity to honk at me!" look on his face. He kind of looked like Richard Dreyfuss in his Down and Out in Beverly Hills phase. I've never really liked Richard Dreyfuss.

Anyhoo... since he was going the opposite direction, and there are those lights to deal with, I felt pretty sure that he wouldn't have time to catch me and engage in road rage. Where are the cops when you need them? Not out giving handicap parking tickets, that's for sure! They could sit at this intersection throught the day, and bring it a boatload of traffic ticket money for Backroads.

Meanwhile, as self-appointed Lieutenant of the Karens Causing Chaos Street Patrol, Val will continue to draw attention to those people she deems worthy of a good scolding by car horn.

The Inundation

On Saturday, Hick's typical shortcut ways flooded my kitchen floor. Okay. Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Hick, left to his own devices to add a dill pickle spear to his BBQ pork chop supper, forwent the fork that I recommended.

"I think I can get a pickle out of a jar, Val."

"I don't want your dirty fingers in the juice! Get a fork."

"I'm fine. There's one right here. See?"

Yes, I DID see. I saw Hick tilting that pickle jar, and the liquid running all to one side. There were only three pickles left. Of course they were down in the juice, though Hick declared there was one NOT in the juice, which he grabbed with his fingers.

The next morning, my CROC stuck to the floor. Right in front of FRIG II! There was a triangular stain, kind of grayish green. That's what happens when I think Hick is capable of getting his own pickle out of a jar. 

The next morning, around 10:30, my attention was drawn to that area. Just because I wanted to see if I had cleaned the floor sufficiently. Or if it was collecting dirt off Hick's boots, and needed further scrubbing.

WHAT'S THIS???

There was a puddle of water in front of FRIG II! It had not been there around 5:00 a.m. when I added ice to my metal water bottle. But the icemaker had been making a clicky noise, and I knocked loose a stuck cube from the slots. It ricocheted and shot out onto the floor. But I had picked it up. Maybe there was more that one. But surely not enough to make that puddle. I mopped it up with a towel and kept an eye on the area.

I mentioned it to Hick that evening. Asked if he might have spilled something there around 6:00 when gathering his lunch. No. He had not gotten any water or ice, and had just put his frozen sandwich and chips in his bag.

The next day, the water puddle was back! Same time I noticed, around 10:30, when I was getting some oatmeal and a banana. Again, I mopped it up with a towel. It was only about half as much as before. That evening, I asked Hick if maybe it was something to do with the icemaker. The water hose that feeds it.

"It COULD. Maybe. If the ice maker was clogged up and not working."

"Well. That was only the one day. I can't figure out why it doesn't leak all day. Only around mid-morning."

The THIRD day, I was on the lookout for that water leak. The floor was dry when I got ice. Dry when I took my medicine. I did the dishes about 9:30. WAIT! My CROC was squeaking as I turned to dry my hands when I finished. I looked down. 

THERE WAS A THIN STREAM OF WATER RUNNING FROM THE CABINET UNDER THE SINK TOWARDS FRIG II!

Aha! It was the SINK that was leaking. I looked underneath, but didn't see any drips. Felt the pipes. Not wet. Was this a problem with water coming in? Or water going out? Was it just the hot water? I run water in the sink all through the day. But it didn't leak except in the morning, when I used hot water for the dishes.

When Hick got home, I explained my discovery. I had left the towel down, rather than washing it this time, in case Hick needed to research that leak. He got down on the floor, and stuck his head under the sink. HE thought it was the lever thingy that turns on the water. Nope. I ran hot water. I ran cold water. Nothing. Then I said maybe I should fill the sink, and then pull the plug. THAT'S what made the pipes leak!

I stuck the plug back in, and Hick grunted under the sink. He said it was the collar thingy on the drain. That there's a flat side and a threaded side, and the collar squeezes it tight. That it had somehow become loose. None of that made sense to me. I know better than to try and get a better explanation from Hick. Don't even get me started on the hanging of the sign for his SUS2.5!

Anyhoo... Hick said to let the rest of the water out. The sink no longer leaked.

I'd like to take credit for discovering what was leaking. But I'm just the middlewoman. Hick brought it to my attention with his unrelated pickle juice spill, and fixed the final problem.

Hick Calls It Done

Hick's new love is ready to be clear-coated with polyurethane! I used the colored pencils to fill in the portions as he instructed. It looks unfinished to me, but I suppose it meets Hick's conditions of "standing out more" with a bit of color.

I don't know why the lettering shows an orange hue. It must be something to do with my phone camera. In real life, there is no orange at all in the lettering, and I certainly did not use the colored pencil there. What you may not realize, and I did not know until last night, was that the other side of the sign is also engraved like this! So... there are two rifles and knives on this side, and also two rifles and knives on the opposite side of the board.

For now, I am awaiting my chastisement or congratulations when Hick gets home to critique my efforts. Oh, come on! We all know that only one of those pronouncements will be forthcoming...

Why Didn't He Say So?

You may recall Hick's new love, the sign a buddy made for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Hick still caresses it every evening. He bought colored pencils for me to use. I have been in no hurry. Hick never gave me a time limit. I am loathe to start this project without Hick looking over my shoulder. I would hate to bespoil his darling.

Anyhoo... with Hick finally home at the same time, when I wasn't busy cooking his supper, or scratching my lottery tickets, I said, "Maybe tomorrow I can color your sign, if you're here to show me exactly what you want."

Hick was holding his precious at the time. He ran his hand over the surface. "Yeah. My buddy won't take the money until he gets it done, with the polyurethane coating."

Welp! Nobody told me some innocent guy's money was held up until I did my coloring! Making Hick wait is one thing. But a businessman should not have his payment delayed.

Hick has tried the colored pencils, to see if that's the result that he wants. He thinks so.

Hick says he wants it colored lightly, not with a lot of pressure. Probably to make the gun stock, which he plans to be orange, look like wood grain. I'm not sure why Hick tried purple. He has said he just wants the wooden parts of the rifle, and the handle of the knife colored. To make the sign stand out more. He had originally said he wanted red for the knife handle.

Anyhoo... knowing Hick's communication style, and how infatuated he is with his new love, I'm sure you can understand why I won't start this little project unless he's RIGHT HERE to boss me around. The whole process will probably take less than 15 minutes. It's just the finality of it that makes me feel the pressure!

The Weirdo Dam Has Broken

Three weirdos in four days! Seems like old times. The weirdo dam has broken, and Val is caught in the deluge. A stalking little girl on Thursday, a leather Johnny Depp parking-lot moonwalker on Saturday, and then Sunday's strange encounter at the Liquor Store.

Let the record show that I stop in for scratchers once a week at the Liquor Store. I'd go more, but they're often out of my favorites. Technically, it's a smoke shop, mainly selling cigarettes and vapes and "heavy" soda. It has a drive-thru window. The major part of the store is filled with shelves of assorted hard liquor, and we've always just referred to it as the Liquor Store. They have four or five of those fake slot machines that are considered "games of not chance." I've never played them, though Hick does at other venues.

The Liquor Store has always seemed a bit shady to me. No real reason, other than cars in the parking lot, but no customers visible inside. In my mind, they have a secret back room where they hold illegal poker games. Or maybe they deal in loan-sharking. 

Anyhoo... I was standing at the counter, trading scratcher winners for what turned out to be scratcher losers, when I saw a man approach the clear double doors. He was a medium-size, medium-age man, with medium-length medium-color hair. He was wearing medium-faded jeans with a medium brown t-shirt. Mr. Medium had two dogs on a loooong bright-orange lead, which was spliced to a black leash or rope.

The dogs were not big dogs, but overly-medium. One looked like a black lab mix, young and inquisitive. The other was obviously mostly pit-bull, in the standard pit-bull brown color. 

Mr. Medium unhooked the dogs from the lead, and opened up the door, leaving the long orange flat rope thingy lying in front of the door, strewn along the blacktop ramp/entrance area. They all came inside. The lab ran up to me, sturdy tail wagging, sniffing my right knee. I'm not afraid of dogs. I even greeted them with, "Hi, doggies!" And to be fair, that knee had just been anointed with the very special cream that The Pony got me for medicinal purposes. The pit walked on by, giving me a cursory look.

My attention was on picking scratchers, because they were out of a couple, and this was a new girl working. I lost track of Mr. Medium and his dogs. Then I heard the gal working the drive-thru window, who was out of sight behind shelves of cigarettes, exclaim: "Whoa! You touched my butt and surprised me!" New Girl giggled. I at first thought somebody might be working back there with Window Gal, but then guessed it was maybe Mr. Medium, or one of the dogs.

Mr. Medium suddenly popped up behind me, saying he hoped I won on every ticket. So it wasn't him. He was friendly enough. But he didn't act like he knew the people working there. 

What's up with that? How can a guy just walk into a Liquor Store with two dogs off a leash? That doesn't seem like a good business policy! They had no harnesses or vests proclaiming them to be service dogs. Mr. Medium had left the leash like a trap to snare the feet of elderlies who might be stocking up on their tobacco or vape or alcohol needs, or possibly seeking an under-the-table loan, or wishing to gamble.

Some weirdos raise more questions than concerns...

Yep, the Ol' Weirdo Magnet is Pullin' Again

After typing up yesterday's tale of the strange little girl stalking me in Country Mart, I headed for town to buy some curly fries at Save A Lot to go with Hick's supper. It was smooth sailing at Save A Lot. No weirdos in sight. I wasn't even thinking about weirdos, since it's been quite a while until Thursday's encounter.

I also stopped at 10Box to use their lottery machine for scratchers. I backed out of my rightful handicap parking space to leave, and had to wait on a big gray pickup truck that was backing out farther down the main driving lane across the front of the store. Not a big deal, it's hard to get out there, with constant vehicular and foot traffic. 

The gray truck made a sharp right at the end of the lane, to go towards the road. I was startled to see a man walking, once the truck cleared out of the way. I was going slow anyway, and stopped to let him cross over to the store. 

He was an interesting figure. Wearing all black. Looked like leather pants. Vest. Black shirt. And a black leather hat with a floppy brim all the way around. Like hippie chicks used to wear back in the day, only theirs were not leather. His face looked like a more (?) unkempt sparse-facial-haired Johnny Depp.

Johnny did not cross the road. In fact, he was WALKING IN PLACE! Kind of like Michael Jackson moonwalking, except he was not going anywhere, and not gliding. It was not like a marching band member marking time. No high knees or anything. Just a stationary walk. I motioned for him to cross, yet he did not. Just kept on "walking."

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

Johnny was not pushing a cart. There was no vehicle in his area. I assume he had walked down from the main road. No backpack or anything to signify that he might be picking up some groceries to walk back home. He didn't look dirty. His clothes were not sullied, nor wrinkled. I guess leather doesn't do that. You don't see many wrinkly cows. 

I can't imagine Johnny was just out for exercise. Not a jogger, jogging in place while waiting on traffic. Black leather is not exactly suited for such exertion on a 74-degree day. He would have looked a bit out-of-place in Backroads, due to his togs alone. That doesn't make him weirdo material. But the weird place-walking, and refusal to cross the road, DO!

At least he wasn't swinging a bag of potato chips, smashing them to smithereens. Unless that's what he was going into the store to buy...

Not Far From the Tree, I Suspect

Has anyone been worried about Val? About a certain deficiency in her life lately? Something missing, besides last month's Reuben? I suppose not... The idea only occurred to Val herself on Thursday.

MY WEIRDO MAGNET IS ON THE FRITZ!

Well. Until Thursday. Now that magnet seems to have fixed itself. Just like FRIG II's icemaker, but with less satisfactory results.

I was minding my own beeswax on Thursday, shopping at Country Mart. I picked up bananas, then wheeled my cart/walker across the aisle to look at a 2-lb bag of lemons. I don't trust Country Mart very much for their produce. I feel safe with their bananas, and tomatoes. But the lettuce is often wilty, the giant baking potatoes have a greenish tint, and the bagged salads and shredded lettuce are often past the sell-by date. I wanted to get a look inside that net bag of lemons, past the giant paper labels on each side, to see if there was a lemon already going bad.

I sensed someone behind me. I figured they might be wanting to look at something in that area, so I put the bag in my cart and wheeled on. A glance over my shoulder showed a young girl, maybe 10-11 years old, holding a full-size bag of chips by the corner. No cart. No adult in sight. Maybe they'd sent her to get oranges or something.

My next stop was around the corner, along the main back aisle, more than halfway across the store. I stopped to look at cookies for Hick. I always try to bring him some kind of treat. You know what kind of treats he prefers. Something SWEET! I used to buy him sugar-free treats, but he ate them right along with his daily clandestine donuts from Casey's, and a candy bar every time he stopped for a Diet Mountain Dew. So I realized it was a losing battle, paying extra money for a removed ingredient, and hearing Hick harp about "It's the CARBS, Val, that I have to watch. Not the sugar. The doctor said so." That's Hick's story, and he's stickin' to it.

Anyhoo... I was looking at cookies. Hick's last pack was almost empty, the generic version of the fudge-striped shortbread cookie. I was deciding between iced oatmeal, and vanilla sugar wafers. That Little Girl came bounding toward me from the other end of the store. She was swinging that bag of potato chips to and fro, practically skipping. She passed on my right. Still no sign of a parent or adult with her. Obviously, she had not taken anything from the fruit aisle where she had been stalking me before.

A few seconds later, I sensed someone behind me again. A look over my shoulder revealed That Little Girl. Just standing about 10 feet away, swinging her chips, looking at me. Huh. Well. I guess she wanted some cookies now. I grabbed the vanilla sugar wafers off the top shelf, and wheeled on. 

"Thank you." Said That Little Girl to nobody, after I had turned my back and was wheeling away. Out of the corner of my eye as I turned up the soda aisle, I saw her move to the cookie area where I had been standing. What in the Not-Heaven? Did she have the same shopping list? Why was she turning up where I was stopped?

I headed towards the front and the checkout, after getting Hick's Diet Mountain Dew, on special 3/$12 for a six-pack of 20 oz bottles. Yes. I looked over my shoulder! There went That Little Girl, galloping across the end of the aisle, swinging her potato chips. No cookies in hand.

I hesitate to call That Little Girl a weirdo. But her behavior was not quite normal. WHY would she single me out to stand behind? Twice? And not even pick up the product she was pretending to want? I blame her parent(s). THEY must be the weirdos, having taught her this behavior. If she had a special condition that made her act this way, then surely she should have been more closely supervised. ANYBODY could have snatched her and made a getaway.

It's not like That Little Girl came up to me and tried to start a conversation. She was STALKING! Then waiting. Like wanting me to see her there, like I was in her way, but not looking me in the eye when I caught her. It was like a cartoon, where the one character turns to see if someone is following, and that character stops, and acts all nonchalant.

Val is not some prey to be stalked through Country Mart! I almost hope That Little Girl was planning to snatch my purse from the cart! At least that would have been explainable behavior. Not at all weird.

Hick's New Love

Hick has been oozing adoration since Wednesday. He can't help himself. He's so sweet, so attentive, stroking the object of his affection whenever he's near. He brought The Lovey home with him, flaunting his darling in front of me as soon as they came through the door.

"Look at what my buddy made for me! I was wondering... maybe... I know you're really good at handwriting... but do you think you could color it in?"

What in the NOT-HEAVEN??? You'd think he was asking me to perform a delicate experimental brain surgery on the object of his affection! Of course I can color within the lines. I'm a VALedictorian, you know!

Hick wants it to stand out. So far he's only mentioned the big gun, and the knife. Then his buddy will put a coat of polyethylene on it, and Hick will hang it in his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit 2.5). Right now he can't decide on using color from markers or colored pencils or paint pens. He's asked me repeated times if I know how to use each one. He's planning to go to Hobby Lobby for the supplies.

Meanwhile, Hick always has The Lovey close to him. Holding it. Stroking it. He sits on the long couch with it, instead of in his recliner. And continues to question my coloring skills. 

"I guess at the worst, if you get out of the lines, I could sand it down a little to get colored pencil off. But marker would soak in. And paint, I don't know."

I'm starting to feel the pressure.

A Statement of the Times

Since I started my first real job, I've had an account at a local credit union. It used to be specifically for employees of a certain company, but has expanded to include anybody who wants to start an account. For all of these many years, I've gotten a quarterly statement. 

Earlier this week, I got my statement. I was shocked to see two charges of $5 each, billed as PAPER STATEMENT FEE. I know a lot of places charge for the paper statement. I think my regular bank charges $2, as does another institution where Hick currently gets a quarterly statement for HIS money. I don't mind paying that, because sometimes I just want a paper statement for reference. My issue is with the "surprise" of these two charges, and the fact that I only received one of the statements. 

I know that this credit union has been pushing online accounts for a while. They had started offering more and more services over the years, including checks and online banking, whereas it used to be just a savings account kind of business, with Christmas Club accounts, and loans for cars. I had thought about setting up an online account, but all I would do with it would be check my balances in my CDs and regular account. The less info out there to be stolen online, the better! So I figured my quarterly paper statement was just fine.

When I saw these fees, I was concerned. One was for July, which is understandable. It was the 2nd Quarter statement. But the other was for AUGUST! And I didn't even get a statement then. What's up with that? Is the credit union going to act like a bank now, and send out MONTHLY statements? I'm not paying $5 a month! I went online to see about setting up an account, but the first thing that came up was a warning that it was NOT SECURE. I went in a different way, which gave me the same screens, and appeared to be secure. But I was leery.

I called the credit union. A very nice lady listened to my complaints.

"I don't remember ever seeing that it would cost me $5 a month for my statements! Is that a thing now? Because I used to only get them quarterly."

"We have been advertising this since November 2024." [Which means that IF they had included it on the newsletter tucked in with the quarterly statements, I would have seen it twice, but if it was online, I would not have seen it at all.]

"I know about the availability of the online accounts. But I never saw that fee mentioned."

"The paper those statements are printed on is incredibly expensive!"

"So what do I need to do, just go online to set up a password for my account, and then the paper statement fee will go away from now on?"

"Yes, or I can do that for you right now."

"What? Then do that for me! Because I really don't want an online account."

"Okay. It's done."

"Thank you! I also have a son who has an account there. I think I'm still on it. I guess you're not allowed to take the fee off of that account also?"

"Yes. I can do it. There. I fixed that one."

"Thank you so much!"

"Any time you come in, or if you call ahead, we can print you a statement on regular paper."

"That's great! My husband comes in there once a month to make a deposit. So he could get one then, if we wanted one?"

"Yes. We can do that."

"Thank you! You have been very helpful. I really appreciate it."

See there? Val dodged another sign of progress! And it only cost her $10.

If It's Not One Thing, It's Old Buddy

Hick picked up his precious dumpster for the senior apartments on Monday. I passed him on the way home, as I was going to town. When I got back, he was in the garage, leaving for the auction. He had no time for stories then, but had plenty to talk about when he got home from the auction around 9:00.

"That Old Buddy costs me money every time I turn around! I guess he just don't think. I need him to work for me, but he needs to get his heat outta his butt! We got the dumpster, and got it loaded in my truck. The lady had a couple other things I wanted. And a couple things Old Buddy wanted. I put mine in the back seat of the truck. They took up most of the room. So I told him to finish loading stuff in the back. The lady said we could lay that dumpster on its side, and put the other stuff in it, so it didn't blow away. She went back in, and Old Buddy finished loading.

When we got back and had the dumpster out of the truck, I told Old Buddy, 'You can go ahead and put that stuff in your car. I'm not doing anything else today.' And Old Buddy looked at what we had set out of the dumpster, and said, 'I didn't buy it.' So I told him, 'I didn't buy it!' And he said, 'I thought you did. It was sitting on that cart by your stuff, so I thought it was yours.'

The lady called me, saying I took too much stuff. More than I bought. I told her I just realized that when we were unloading. She said she had set it aside on a separate cart, for another buyer to pick up on Tuesday, and that she should have set it farther away. I told her I'd bring it back. She asked how far I had to drive, and I told her 90 minutes one way. Then she hung up, and I realized I can't do it Tuesday, because the guy from the electric company is coming to approve the new service entrance on the flip house after I put it in. So I sent her a message that I'll bring it Wednesday, but I haven't heard back from her.

There must be $200 worth of extra stuff I didn't buy! I got myself a deer head, and a fish, and a pheasant. Also a shovel and two axes and a hoe. Plus two lids for a bushel basket. I ain't never seen lids before. I wanted them to hang on the wall. Also I got a box of miscellaneous stuff, like linch pins and roll pins and coffer pins.

Old Buddy had loaded up a nail gun, and five baskets: three bushel and two half-bushel. He also had some kind of metal drawer full of stuff, and a piano bench kind of thing with claw feet with marbles in them. He said, 'Well, I guess I can drive them back.' But I don't know if I trust him to do that. He cain't seem to do anything right if I'm not watching him."

"So now she thinks you're shady, and you stole stuff from her!"

"No, she said she should have put the other stuff farther away. When Old Buddy was loading it, I thought it was stuff that he bought for himself, because we both was buyin' stuff. I told her I'd bring it back, but now I don't know how, because she ain't got back to me."

Hick has a doctor's appointment on Wednesday, halfway towards where he stole the stuff, heh, heh bought the dumpster. So he's going to drive the stuff up to the lady afterwards, even if he hasn't heard from her, to see if she's there, and give it back.

Hick is many things, but a thief isn't one of them.

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UPDATE:

Hick talked to the lady, and she said Wednesday will not work for her. But after that, she will be available, and Hick can bring back the items within 8 days. I'm not sure what that means. I guess she might be gone again. Hick says it's a big warehouse that the lady and her people are cleaning out, selling what they find. So it's not like he could just drop off the stuff at her house.

Hick told her he will bring the things back on Monday. He says that Old Buddy will be accompanying him, but that he will NOT be getting paid for his time. __________________________________________________________________