HIPPIE LIVES!

I must be careful not to taunt The Universe. HIPPIE seems to be responding to treatment. His prognosis is guarded, but the signs of recovery are there. When I turn on HIPPIE now, the black screen of OH CRAP does not appear. HIPPIE starts up as normal. In fact, a little faster than normal. Maybe that drenching washed out some dust.

The Pony says it IS possible that HIPPIE could gradually be drying out his innards. That first the warning about the fan might go away. And then the fan might start working again. I sent my important files to myself, just in case. I am tempted to try switching the plug-in mouse thingy back to that other port, to see if it is working now, but I don't want to take a chance, since that part ain't broke right now.

Good thing HIPPIE is feeling better, because The Pony is feeling worse. With a migraine. Asked to put off bringing out the replacement laptop today. Fine with me.

Meanwhile, you don't think I'm going to accept responsibility for this fiasco, do you? It's Hick's fault! I've been sitting at the kitchen table, taking my medicine, for several years without incident. But only two days prior to The Drowning, I had switched cups.

My normal drinking vessel was two red Solo cups stacked together. Because they're too flimsy/squeezy if you use just one. 

Let the record show that these are from Save A Lot, and actually not SOLO, but a brand called DART.

Hick did not like the double-cup. He uses them for his Wild Turkey and Shasta Zero Sugar Cola. Hick says his lips don't fit on the double cup. That some liquid dribbles out, or goes down in the second cup. I say that's a personal problem. Somebody who doesn't know how to drink! Just like Hick keeps his lips together while sneezing. Instead of saying ACHOO, Hick says PPPPFFFFTTTT, like a raspberry.

Anyhoo... because I didn't like carrying Hick's drink to his recliner in a flimsy/squeezy cup, I bought a different kind. 

Not sure what they are, but they are thicker, and have a square bottom. [Upon taking the picture, it looks like Hick's cups are actually the SOLO brand, but a square bottom version.] It's one of these I switched to for my medicine water. I use my cups for a week or two. It's only water. I'm not someone trying to clutter up the world with used cups. The square-bottom cups are stacked on the cutting block, so I just took one of them. It's a corner of the square bottom that caused my cup to tip. A round bottom cup would not have, because I'm used to its dimensions. 

See there? It WAS Hick's fault!

Val Drowns a HIPPIE and Kills a Mouse

The Universe is not cutting Val a break. This week brought a twisted knee (the better one), making a trip to town impossible for two days. In the midst of that was the power outage. And Friday morning, 

VAL DROWNED HIPPIE AND KILLED HER MOUSE!

HIPPIE, my HP laptop, is quite long in the tooth. I can't remember a time without HIPPIE. I think he might have been running Windows 8, before kicking and screaming could not prevent an upgrade to Windows 10.

Anyhoo... HIPPIE has grown cantankerous over the years. Sometimes going crazy and opening apps at random. Or locking up, refusing to move or even shut down. Shortly before noon on Friday, I took a pill and set down my red Solo cup of water. Only it didn't set down! It hit the edge of HIPPIE. In my haste to right the cup, I over-righted it, and water flowed across HIPPIE'S keyboard!!!

I immediately grabbed HIPPIE and flipped him upside down. Gave him a shake. Balanced him upside down across the table edge and a box of files on the kitchen chair beside me. I left HIPPIE suspended upside down as I mopped up the table water, changed clothes, and put the wet items in the dryer.

When I returned to HIPPIE, I gave him several shakes. Wiped across the keys with some paper towels while he was still upside down. When I righted him, HIPPIE was still running! Still had a window open. Still had internet. But the mouse would not respond!

That mouse didn't even get wet! Not a drop. It was not in the direction of the water flow. I set it on HIPPIE'S power cord during cleanup, lest some water creep that way. The mouse remained bone dry.

I thought that maybe I had hit a key while wiping HIPPIE upside down. There were a couple odd apps open. I used that keypad thingy to close them, and do a proper shutdown, so HIPPIE could restart and maybe get everything sorted.

NOOOOOO!!!

I got the black screen of OH CRAP! Saying the fan didn't work, and continuing might cause erratic behavior or damage. I had 15 seconds to continue or abort this mission. Well. I read too slowly, looking at the gibberish under that statement. HIPPIE shut down again. I powered him up again. Same message. I continued.

I propped HIPPIE so he was not flat on the table. Still no mouse. I took off the cover and twisted the battery around. It said it's good until 2030. I turned the mouse off and on. Each time, I'd get a green light, but then it would turn to flashing red.

I called The Pony, who has drowned a couple of laptops. The Pony said I should have turned off power the minute HIPPIE was drowned, and set him on a vent for several days, before trying to turn him on again. But that since other parts seemed to be working, that would be futile now.

The Pony said maybe it was the port used for that plug-in thingy that runs the mouse. So try it in a different port. IT WORKED! I got a chime-y sound, and a box saying Logitech was loading. I turned the mouse back on, and IT WORKED! The Pony is a genius sometimes.

The Pony says that a bad fan is a big problem. That I might be able to keep using HIPPIE, but to email myself any important files I didn't want to lose. Like my tax returns!

I actually have another laptop, new two Christmases ago, bought for me by The Pony. I put off switching over for two tax seasons, because I wanted to be comfortable using my regular method of filing taxes. I hate learning the spacing of a new keyboard, and switching over to Windows 11 or whatever laptops come with now. The Pony kept it at his house, loading some entertainment for me in the form of shows and games.

It might be time to fire up that new laptop. The Pony is bringing it out tomorrow.

Hick Buys Himself a Winner

Hick is not known for his luck with lottery tickets. He's good at many things, but buying winning scratchers is not one of them. Hick is a regular MacGyver at solving problems...

Saturday evening, Hick had a tale from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5).

"This guy come in and said he had a $1000 lottery ticket that he'd sell me for $700."

"Was it REALLY a winner?"

"Yeah. I seen it myself. But I ain't stupid. The lottery will take at least 24% in taxes. So I really wouldn't be making anything."

"No. Remember when we cash in MY $1000 winners? We each claim half. There's NO tax withheld on a single ticket when winnings are less than $600.01. So we get $500 each. No withholding, just report it at tax time, any winnings that are more than losings. I just don't want to ride up there and back for three hours. It hurts my knees, all that riding all at once, only getting out for ten minutes. I still have a $1000 winner that expires Aug 26. I was going to mail it this week."

"I can get Pony to go with me! We can claim 50% on those tickets. And then Pony will give that half back to us."

"Yes. That can work. Is the guy bringing the ticket back?"

"Yeah. I told him I didn't know if I wanted it, but I didn't have that much money on me right then. So I can get it tomorrow."

HE DID!

Technically, Hick bought himself a winning lottery ticket! He doesn't know where the guy got it. This is the newest $5 ticket that just came out a couple weeks ago. Hick made $300 on this deal.

Don't you worry about Val! Here's my ticket that I'd been putting off redeeming, not wanting to take that long ride with Hick. Any ticket winning over $500 has to be redeemed at a state lottery office, either in person, or by mail.

They don't sell this one any more. I think I got it last summer. I HAVE been watching the expiration date. So now that "problem" has been resolved.

We appreciate The Pony's help. It's time The Pony had a $1000 winner.

Val Has Regained Power

Our electricity went off at 8:47 on Tuesday night. It was not quite black dark yet. I was at the kitchen table, and said I didn't have a flashlight. Hick, reclining in his recliner, said he didn't have one, either.

"WHAT? It's right there on the table! Next to the arm of the couch."

Hick said he had to turn on his phone flashlight to find it, even though it is a big red metal flashlight that has been in the same place for years. He brought it to me, and went out to start the generator. It seemed to be taking a long time. So long that I had time to hobble to the bathroom, but not flush, because, you know, the well won't run without electricity, and we only get one flush with the water in the tank. You want to make it worth that flush!

Once I was out, Hick came in and switched on whatever he does to let some of the breakers run with generator power.

"So now I can flush, use the lights, TV, microwave, and my laptop. The refrigerator is on. But no oven, no washer/dryer..."

"And no air conditioner," said Hick as he turned it off, and I went to flush.

"What took so long? Was the generator not working? I just got a notice from the electric company that there are reports our power might be out. So somebody called it in."

"It didn't have no gas. So I had to go get some at the BARn. I'm going to town to make sure we have enough."

"You're putting on a shirt, aren't you? And real shoes?"

"I'll put on a shirt, but my Crocs are good enough."

Hick left around 9:15. Got back at 9:45.

"They have lights halfway up the hill from the mailboxes. So it's just us out here. I didn't see nothin'. Maybe a limb fell on the line, and shut it down. I didn't see no crews. And it's been an hour already."

The outage map showed 53 customers without power. That's us, up in our enclave. So I knew we would not be a high priority if more people were out somewhere else.

Hick said the generator could run 4 or 5 hours, and then everything would just go off. But that if I saw the dusk-to-dawn light come back on, or if the electric company sent an email saying power was back, to wake him so he could shut off the generator and reconnect regular power. That happened at 10:57.

I woke Hick. He went outside in his tighty-whities and camouflage Crocs. If you drive up our gravel road at night, avert your eyes!

The email said the cause of the outage was a tree limb. Hick thinks they just had to reset something on a pole down by the mailboxes. It only took so long because they hadn't assigned a crew, and then the crew had to drive about an hour to get here.

No Tales Today

We have a power outage tonight (Tuesday) at the time I usually prepare the tales of Hick's (mis)adventures. I have a small widow of internet usage while the generator powers our hillbilly mansion. Of course we are short on gas, so Hick has gone to town to get more. 

I will use my time with electricity to warm my supper in the microwave (can't run the oven on the generator), and get a flush of the toilet while the well has power.

Lucky Hick already got his supper warmed in the oven. And was on the way to bed when everything went dark. We had some storms earlier, but everything was calm when the electricity went off. Not even any rain. Once Hick started the generator, and the wi-fi came back, we got a text from the electric company.

Potential Power Outage Notification

"Our crews are investigating reported outages in our territory. Currently we are unable to provide an estimated restoration time."

Well. The power outage is not just "reported." The power is out. No air conditioning for us, since the generator is not big enough to power the whole house. At least FRIG II is running, and I can use the microwave, TV, internet, and lights. Plus we have water. If Hick can't get gas because the power is out in town, those amenities will only last until the generator runs out of gas.

I'd rather have supper than provide a blog post for a handful of readers...

Hick Might Be the Keymaster

Hick found an unusual item at the auction on Monday night. Spent $160 for it. He said he doesn't know what it's worth, because he hasn't looked it up yet. But it's something he couldn't pass up.

I think this must be the original box. It seems aged.

Inside, the plastic wrap is there, but has been opened. Seriously. If YOU had this item, wouldn't you want to open it and take a look?

It came with an insert inside, which looks appropriately aged.

That's the front. Here's the back.

I'm not sure if this is something Hick wants to keep in his collection, or if he will sell it.

"So, is this a SPY gun?"

"No. I don't think so. Just a key gun."

As IF that's a thing. I've never heard of it before. It reminds me of a show I watched about spies, and their freaky equipment like umbrellas that could poison people.

Happy 6th of July

We had our 4th of July BBQ on July 6th. The Pony came out, and Hick grilled some sausages. We had gone shopping for provisions on Thursday, but could find no bratwursts! And the sausage patties were not what we like. They were all jalapeno, cheddar, and jalapeno cheddar. I tried a different store on Saturday, with the same result. Although they DID have a pack of four cheddar/bacon patties. I bought a pack of sausage, even thought it meant I would have to make my own patties. I also got some hamburger. 

I picked up The Pony, and we whipped up some baked beans. Then started on the patty-making. I have a device that you can plop the meat onto, and squeeze down the lid. It takes more time, but you don't get your hands all fatty while making hamburgers or sausage patties.

We took the easy route this time. Simple food from the freezer.

I worry about Hick's appetite. He had a single sausage patty! And two hash browns, a few onion rings, baked beans, and part of an onion he stole off my plate while I was in the bathroom. Hick never said he wanted onion!

The Pony had a hamburger and a sausage patty. He really liked the onions rings, but not so much the hash browns. Baked beans and a southwest salad completed The Pony's meal. Along with a rum and Coke. The hamburger was left over, and half of the salad, plus a hash brown.

I had a hamburger, onion rings, hash brown, pickle and (most of) an onion, with a salad and ample ketchup and mayo. It was quite tasty, and I finished all but the salad.

The Pony had sausage patties and hamburgers to take home. Along with some desserts. I found a cherry pie for Hick. And some "turtle" brownies, blueberry bread, and mini strawberry donuts. The Pony took home all the S'mores cookies that we found on Thursday. Fine with me. It's not a flavor I like. Hick will have that cherry pie all to himself. I'm not a fan of pie.

We'll be having leftovers for a few days.

A Stinging Rebuke for Hick

For the past few weeks, Hick had been getting POOLIO ready for the summer. He usually starts this process around the end of May. I guess he had too much going on then, what with feuding with the guy who has a driveway on HIS LAND, and getting the senior apartments ready for renting, and helping assorted cronies. 

Anyhoo... POOLIO is at least 20 years old. An above-ground pool that was nice when first installed. The boys loved it. Genius was around 10. The Pony had to walk on tiptoes and tilt his head back to keep his face above the surface so he could breathe. Fun times were had in POOLIO. Val even took a dip on occasion.

First Hick had to remove the cover, which was done with the assistance of his tractor. It was not a smooth process. In past years, he had the assistance of Genius or The Pony or The Veteran. Then Hick had to add more water, which could only be done while he was outside supervising, lest our newest crazy dog decide to chew a hole in the hose he runs from the outside spigot over the well. Next was running the filter, which had some problems Hick fixed. Then new sand for that filter. And letting the top skimmer thingy do its job for a while. This week Hick took a water sample to the pool place, and got chemicals.

Friday evening, I returned home to an indignant Hick.

"I went to put the ladder back down in the pool, and about 30 wasps came swarming out! I got stung 3 times! One on the thumb. That's the one that hurts. It didn't swell or nothin', but the joint really hurts."

"Good thing you're not allergic! My dad had to carry an epi pen when he was climbing poles and working on phone lines."

"Yeah. Well. That's a good thing."

Hick is like a stinger magnet. Whether it was these wasps (which have been know for years to hang out down by POOLIO and under the back porch) or yellowjackets that he mows over and aggravates, Hick takes a stinging every summer. Those insects either find him delectable, or have a vendetta.

At least Hick now has about a month to enjoy POOLIO before the nights turn cool, and the water becomes cold.

A Holiday Supper

Ever since Hick brought home the new menu for June, I had been looking forward to the July 3rd lunch at the Senior Center. That's a whole month! I was kind of excited, but not quite to the Reuben Sandwich level. I have been mentioning weekly that I wanted that lunch for supper.

BBQ Pork Steaks

Potato Salad

Mac & Cheese

Red, White, Blue Cake OR Fruit

Doesn't that sound good? Hick said he'd make sure to get it ordered, to have it ready for take-out when he was done eating his meal there. In fact, he also ordered one for himself. No cooking for me! He brought the two meals home and put them in FRIG II, still tied up in the white plastic bags with eleventy-billion knots at the top. 

As I was getting ready for town, I rescued those meals from their bondage, to see how they looked. Let's just say it was not what I expected.

See what I mean? It also had green beans. Heh, heh! That's not at all what I mean. Perhaps you recall other pictures of Thevictorians feasting on BBQ pork steaks. The Flintstone-sized version. This is about 1/5 the size of a regular pork steak. Not that I expected the Senior Center to serve up such gargantual proportions. I realize that most elderlies (and most normal people) don't feed like Thevictorians at the trough. I was just surprised by the size. It's smaller than a pork chop.

Anyhoo... the sides were generous. The best was the mac & cheese, though I hardly ever eat it, and am used to it being more of a cheddar or Velveeta cheese than whatever white cheese this was. I did not like the potato salad. It was too sweet. What can they put in there to make potato salad sweet? Maybe it was relish. Maybe Miracle Whip. Not a fan. It was typical storebought potato salad. I did manage to finish the entire serving... I did not like the beans. They were wax beans. Again, they had a sweet taste. I even tried some salt, and adding some crispy fried onions on top. Not a fan.

The cake looked good, though it was not red, white, nor blue. Looked like the standard storebought cake. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I don't imagine the cooks at the Senior Center to be up before dawn, wearing puffy white chef hats, making a cake from scratch to feed a hundred or more people. I can't give a description of the taste, because I don't eat the desserts. I give them to Hick.

When Hick looked at the meals, he was also surprised.

"When I got there, I saw them making some hamburgers. So I ordered ours right away, to make sure they didn't run out and give us hamburgers. In fact, they was also cuttin' up pork steaks. Like making smaller portions. I guess they had a lot of call-in orders. We had a different cake. It was white, with colored sprinkles on the icing."

Still, it was a meal I didn't have to cook. The pork steak was nice, after I warmed it in the oven and got a nice glaze on the sauce. I put mine on a bun, with some shredded lettuce, pickle, and onion. I would have it again, but without such anticipation. And next time, I'd give Hick the potato salad and wax beans, as well as the dessert.

We will be doing our own grilling on Sunday, when The Pony comes to join us.

There's a Fine Line Between Do-Gooderism and Gladys Kravitz Busybodyness

The day after Hick rescued the old lady, Wallet Man came up to him in the lunchroom and said, "We really appreciate all the things you do. Even things most people don't know about." Which was a nice VALidation for Hick. He was pleased.

Two days later, Hick was up to his Do-Gooding again. Wednesday evening, he said:

"There's this old man who usually eats lunch at the Senior Center. He don't live there, but he's there most days. I ain't seen him for about a week. And the last time I saw him, he didn't look too good. I'm kinda worried about him. I know he's in the VFW with The Veteran. So I called to ask him about the guy.

The Veteran said he'd check. Everyone he asked said they hadn't seen the guy, and that he'd missed several VFW events recently that he normally goes to. The Veteran was able to get Old Man's address and phone number from the VFW. He tried to call, but there was no answer. He said he'd go by his apartment, and if nobody was there, he'd call the police for a welfare check.

When he got there, the Old Man came to the door. He said he'd been in the hospital."

"I don't want to say GOOD, because he's been in the hospital. But it IS kind of good news, considering how it could have turned out."

"Yeah. I'm glad the Old Man is okay."

I hate to think that it took a WHOLE WEEK for people to be concerned. But you can't just go jumping to conclusions every time somebody changes their routine. Though the "how to murder your wife" shows I've been watching lately say otherwise...

The Audacity of the White Truck Guy Rumpushole

I may not have been keeping you updated on White Truck Guy, who regularly parks in the lone handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store. It's not because he has quit doing so. Even though I've been going to town later and later, I still encounter him in my rightful handicap space a couple times a week. Only now he's Red Truck Guy. Several months ago he traded vehicles. 

Anyhoo... there he was again at 5:30 on Tuesday evening. I pulled in behind his running red truck. Didn't look like he was inside. With the heat index near 100, I didn't feel like sitting there with T-Hoe running, nor walking the extra distance to the door. You never know if White Truck Guy is about to come out and leave, or sit in his truck a while, or stay inside for 20 minutes. So I left to go about my other business of getting scratchers at Casey's.

I can see that parking spot from Casey's. It's just over the moat beside Hick's pharmacy, which sits between the two convenience stores. You know that I was in Casey's for a while. Everyone here, and cameras from space, can verify that Val is a slow mover. I figured this was another of White Truck Guy's lengthy visits, so I drove up town to mail some bills. Being careful to avoid that street beside the giant sinkhole, because The Pony asked me to way back when it was even smaller.

Anyhoo... by the time I got back to the Gas Station Chicken Store, White Truck Guy's red truck was gone from the handicap space. I parked and started in.

Well, I'll be ding-dang-donged! The red truck was now sitting under the roof, parked at the gas pump closest to the door. He has done this before. I suppose he checks his tickets, then goes back inside. My favorite cashier has said that Man Owner has asked him not to block the gas pumps, but he continues. 

As I got closer to the door, out came WHITE TRUCK GUY! I'd know him anywhere. He glanced over at me, and HELD THE DOOR OPEN.

That's not fair! That's dirty pool! What a low-life thing to do, hold open the door for the grouchy hobbling old lady who despises him for parking in her rightful handicap space! Of course I had to tell him "Thank you" as I went in.

Pardon me for being cynical, but it's another case of the actions not belying the sentiment, which I experienced with another handicap parking space usurper last week, and shamed on my supersecret blog. White Truck Guy will hold the door open to help me, yet he cannot keep his truck out of the handicap parking space to help me. 

Sorry that I can't pretend I honestly appreciated his door-holding olive branch.

Val's Efforts to Be a Do-Gooder Are Thwarted by a Johnny on the Spot

I was in line at 10Box on Monday, behind a guy who was only buying a quart of ice cream. Or however much ice cream you get these days in that oval container. He was paying with cash, and came up short. According to the Young Guy Cashier, he needed 48 cents, after counting up three bills and coins.

I was reaching into my shirt pocket to pull out a dollar when another man walked across the end of the conveyor. "Hey, buddy. I gotcha." He counted out change and put it on the conveyor next to Ice Cream Guy's pile of cash.

"Thanks a lot! I'll look you up later and pay you back," said Ice Cream Guy as the donator proceeded into the store. "He's my neighbor."

Ice Cream Guy was quite talkative. He started telling a story of how he got in trouble for not showing up to court for resisting arrest and getting tased and it taking him two weeks to be able to walk again. How he hadn't even got notice that he was supposed to appear in court. How he'd gone to the courthouse to see if he had any charges, and they told him he had missed his court date and they'd sent him a letter. But the letter went to (another) neighbor's house, who refused it, and sent it back. 

Young Guy Cashier was counting up the money, so Ice Cream Guy had turned to me to tell his story. I'd already heard part of it on the chip aisle, when he was on the other side, telling an old man looking for peanuts that he had a 2.4 million dollar lawsuit against the cops, but he couldn't afford a lawyer.

I knew that old man was looking for peanuts, because he had his cart in the middle of the chip aisle, and apologized to me before rounding the corner. I don't think he knew Ice Cream Guy. I wondered why Ice Cream Guy didn't just get a lawyer that only takes part of the settlement if he wins. I didn't ask about it, because, you know, I really didn't want to engage.

After Ice Cream Man left, without even putting his ice cream in a bag, I told Young Guy Cashier, "I was ready to give him a dollar when that other guy showed up. Then you wouldn't have had to count all that change."

"Oh, I don't mind counting the change. It's just part of the job."

And here came Ice Cream Man back into the store! Saying, "I forgot I have $15 on my card!"

Not sure what he came back to get. But if he was short a few cents, I would still have given him the dollar. It's the thought that counts.

Hick To the Rescue. Again.

I got a late start to town on Saturday. Hick was already home from his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), reclining in his recliner, bemoaning the heat. I was almost to the lettered county blacktop highway when I got a call from Hick. That was unusual. He knew I had just left for town. It was 5:30. 

"I just got a call from the apartments. Old Gal fell, and she can't get up. Her daughter can't get in the door, so she called for me to come unlock it. I'm leaving now."

Of course I hoped Old Gal was okay. It's never good when an elderly takes a tumble. It's also good that Hick was only sipping on a Diet Mountain Dew at the time, and could drive 20 minutes to town to take care of this incident. Seems like being 'on call' 24/7/365 should be worth more than 'less than $300 a month,' heh, heh!

Anyhoo... supper was delayed. Hick got home around 7:00. He said he and the daughter couldn't get Old Gal up, so they called the EMTs, who did it with no problem. They asked if she wanted to go to the hospital and get checked out. She asked her daughter, who said, "I don't think so. You just took your sleeping pill and fell down because you weren't using your cane. You're probably okay."

Hick said that yes, she seemed a little confused and was slurring some words, because of the sleeping pill. Her daughter says that's how it makes her react. She said her hip was hurting a little, but she was able to walk on it. They just put her back to bed. 

"What kind of floor is it?"

"It's tile for the bathroom, and carpet for the bedroom. She was kind of half on each. She got up for the bathroom, and fell on the way."

"Did she pee herself?"

"No. She tried to get in the bathroom and pull herself up, but she couldn't."

"Did they let her pee before putting her back to bed?"

"No."

"Well, that's not a good thing! I hope you don't have to go back."

"I gave her daughter a key. I think I'm going to put a drop box in there. So the fire department can get access to the keys when they need to get in and help somebody."

"Heh, heh! So you're just going to make sure somebody ELSE is on call for these things."

"Yeah, pretty much."

That Hick is such a helper. Though I would probably lie here for half a day or more if I took a tumble while he was in town...

Hick Did the Work of Five Men

Hick was practially chortling (though not evil-ish, like The Universe) when he told me a tale on Saturday evening.

"Remember my guy, Dude, who used to work for me at the plant? He came in today. He quit there a while ago. But he said right after I left, everything was going wrong. After about three months, they started going back to the way I did things. He said they had five people doing all the work I used to do. I knew that plant couldn't run with how they was doing things."

Let the record show that when Hick was set to retire, management begged him to stay on. Gave him a sweet deal to work 20 hours a week, with full insurance and benefits. Hick was fine with that, until some restructuring that gave him a "boss." He compared this boss to a used-car salesman. Said he was all about making people think how great he was at his job, while doing next to nothing. We know Hick is not the best at taking orders, but he DOES know what he's doing. It was this change, and a switch to some kind of management system (Lean Manufacturing), that made Hick slam the door shut on his "partial" retirement.

Hick and two others built that company from the ground up. They were advised by the "Big Guy" on the east coast to answer a blind ad. In fact, they were threatened with a lawsuit for giving up "trade secrets" in the butcher-saw-blade-making industry when they left their former employer. Under the "Big Guy's" funding, they took an empty building and turned it into a new factory, then expanded to a bigger building.

Hick was sent to several other countries to advise them on their manufacturing techniques, and was in charge of buying millions of dollars worth of machines, and seeing that they were safely shipped. He went to Germany, Wales, France, Sweden, Brazil, and New Jersey (heh, heh!). Hick said Brazil was the most scary/dangerous. They had to be accompanied by security when they left the hotel, lest they be kidnapped, robbed, or arrested.

He brought home several workers who were joining their company, who were "in town" for training. Hick didn't want them sitting around a motel room for a weekend. The guy from Colombia bought a used car from us. The guy from China loved riding the 4-wheeler, shooting a gun, and told Hick, "You are a very rich man. Rich in property, and rich to have four sons." He was expecting a baby daughter at the time. He wanted Hick to take a picture of him holding a 9mm pistol, but told Hick that his wife must never see it. Then there were the guys from Germany who Hick took to eat at a local catfish restaurant, only to find out one was allergic to fish!

Hick was on equal footing with the plant manager and the office manager, his title being Manager of Facility Maintenance. The three of them ran that place, making decisions about operations and hiring. Until they got old and new people were brought in to eventually take over. That was the start of the decline.

It was nice to see Hick so happy at being VALidated.

Still a Couple of Loose Ends for Wrapping

It's been almost three weeks since the closing on the Double Hovel flip house(s). Life is pretty much back to normal without the responsibility of this constant companion we had for a little over two years.

My stalking is being curtailed, what with street closures due to the installation of a roundabout on the main route that takes me to the bank, Pony House, and past the Double Hovel. My last memory, from Thursday, is that the new resident really needs to mow his yard!

Hick came in Friday afternoon with the mail. "Looks like just junk mail," he said, handing me a single envelope. I tended to agree, but I open all the mail, junk or not, to make sure.

Looks pretty junky, right? Like those companies wanting to insure our water line out to the street (even though we have a well and no street), and the out-of-state companies who would be delighted to buy (at a tenth of the market value) our property, if we only sign the bottom of their offer.

Good thing I opened it! That envelope contained a refund check for the balance left on the Double Hovel's insurance policy. Let the record show that this is not the name of the insurance company on our policy, nor the big-name insurance company that we got it through. Who knew? Better open up that "junk mail" if you recently sold a Double Hovel!

Here's another thing. We are due a refund from the city water department for the Double Hovel. At closing, the closer went over documents, noting a deduction for the water bill, giving the buyer credit for the past month. It was done by the title company, making sure there were no outstanding debts on the property. Well. The checks had already been sent for those payments. Checks were mailed on the 3rd. Closing was on the 9th. Payment due on the 15th.  Not our fault that the city is not prompt in processing payments. Hick thinks it's odd that they didn't do the same with the electric bills, for which we got a final statement, and paid as normal.

Hick thinks the city will probably give us a credit for that amount, on the next water bill for Bargain House. I think they're going to keep the money and plead ignorance if confronted. My other prediction is that the city will give the NEW OWNER credit for that double payment on HIS next bill(s).

We'll see what develops. It's not a large amount. It's the principle. Hick will go to city hall to talk to them about it, if we don't get a refund or a credit when the Bargain House water bill arrives, which should be any day now.

The Universe Treated Val Kindly

It was a good day at the casino for Val. Not only was she NOT the one whose meal was delayed by a kitchen error... but she also made a profit. 

I was around The Pony more than Hick. So I know The Pony didn't get rich, and in fact got poorer. We had declared that it was Hick's turn to win a big jackpot, but that he'd need to get off his old-fashioned machines and bet more than a quarter a spin. I DID see him at a Buffalo game after lunch. He said he won $40 on it, but played it back. That's not bad. The Buffalo games are stingy with their payoffs, unless you hit a BIG JACKPOT. That's the kind of game where I won my $8,600 a few years ago.

Poor Hick. He was on the other side of the carousel of Buffalo games where I had won just before lunch. I only sat down there because The Pony was playing next to an empty slot, and I was tired of caning my way across the casino after a bathroom break.

Funny thing... I had sat down next to The Pony at another game, and on the second spin, I got the bonus he had been trying to trigger for about 20 minutes. It paid me $90-something, so I cashed out a ticket to start saving. It was the first luck I'd had since we got there, and I was down at the time. 

We heard other people winning jackpots. A guy announced that they were having a drawing for some million-dollar promotion, and he would read 25 names, for people to check in at the service desk within 5 minutes, to be included in future drawings. He read off half the names. We heard Hick's first name, and got excited, but it was a different last name. 

I had just entered the bathroom stall when I heard the guy read the rest of the names. I heard MY first name! I couldn't understand the last name. He could have been mispronouncing! Oh, well. I had to go. I figured The Pony would either run tell them where I was, or would come back to the bathroom area to ask me what I wanted him to do. No way could I make it up front in 5 minutes, but The Pony could have taken my ID, and they probably would allow me time. Nobody wants a disability lawsuit!

Well. They finally read the names again, and it was not mine. Too bad, so sad. I was talking to The Pony about it when I joined him at the Buffalo slots. We had a chuckle over the situation. THEN my slot went wild and gave me a bonus I'd never seen before.

I had buffalos all the way across. A LOT of buffalos. I won $252.00 on an 80-cent bet, on the first twenty I'd put in. Poor Pony was ready to leave those Buffalo machines, so we moved one row over, to play Huff n Puff, which is a Three Little Pigs theme, if they were construction workers building straw, wood, and brick homes. The Pony asked me which machine I wanted, for better ease of getting up and down from the chair. I picked the one on the right end, and The Pony took the middle game beside me. Well. You guessed it. MY machine hit a bonus.

I got the Mansion Feature, and after several extra games were given, my whole screen was filled with mansions! That's the best, of course. Mansions pay better than straw or wood houses. Once the Big Bad Wolf blew away my mansions, my prizes added up.

I won $260.00 on a 75-cent bet. Not a big jackpot, but I was pretty happy. Poorer Pony! The Pony's bonuses were not high-paying, but at least there was the fun of THINKING they might pay something good.

Anyhoo... I left with a nice fat bankroll after The Pony cashed out my "saved" ticket. To which I'd added a few more smaller jackpots after lunch. We had a fun day, except for some annoying elderlies who sat around staring at us. That's how it felt, anyway. I don't like it when people aren't playing, just sitting there taking up a machine, watching others win or lose. They keep people from sitting there who might WANT to spend money in that slot. It had been pleasant when we first got there, but then a whole bunch of people seemed to appear. Which was odd, being at the end of the month.

Well! As we were driving away from the casino upon starting home, we saw the reason for all those people. THERE WAS A CRUISE BOAT PARKED ON THE MISSISSIPPI! That is not something I have seen outside of St. Louis and the casino boats that used to be docked there. This looked like a Carnival Cruise ship. Surely it wasn't as big as an actual Carnival Cruise ship. But it was huge for the Mississippi River. I could see it through the gap in the concrete wall there in the downtown area of Casino Town. A bus turned left in front of us, heading that direction, and I realized that it was THOSE PEOPLE from the ship who were taking up room in the casino. It's not like they could leave when their money ran out. Unless they wanted to walk several blocks to get back to their boat.

Val had a good day and a good lunch, with good company (for the most part).

Lunch at the Casino Is Pricey

You'd think a casino would be satisfied with taking our gambling money, and at least allow us to obtain sustenance so we could continue gambling. Isn't that how it used to be in Las Vegas casinos? Cheap food? So you could deposit mass quantities of cash in the slot machines? I don't know. I've never been to Las Vegas. But that's what I gathered from being casino-adjacent all these years.

I might have complained mentioned before how the restaurant at our favorite casino has been inflicting shrinkflation upon us. How I used to get the catfish meal, which was a pound of fried catfish chunks, which has now become 3/4 pound of fried catfish chunks. And how Hick's pie for dessert is now half the size it used to be. As if that's not insult enough, the prices have gone up. Oh, that poor, poor casino, trying to make ends meet...

We used to enjoy the buffet there. It was fantastic! So many stations! Chinese food. Ribeyes cooked to order. Fried chicken. Pot roast with vegetables. A baked potato bar. Fish. Shrimp. Pizza. Mashed potatoes. Assorted vegetables. An entire separate island of desserts. I'm sure I have left out a lot, only mentioning the foods that attracted my attention. Poor Pony. He was not old enough to accompany us there when the buffet was open.

Now we get a normal lunch for the price of the unlimited buffet. How fair is THAT? 

Wednesday, Hick and I chose a cheeseburger and fries. We got the combo, so a soda was included. It would have cost the same had we only gotten the burger and fries, and brought in a small cup of soda from the FREE soda fountain out on the gambling floor. They allow it. But you might as well go with the convenience, since the cost is the same.

It's ridiculous these days! A cheeseburger is $8.00. Fries or tater tots are $5.00. The Pony got a salad that is $11.00, I think. With added grilled chicken that costs extra. Maybe $5.00 or more. I don't know for sure, because the receipt is never itemized. Just a total. It cost us $55.86 for lunch. Those two-armed bandits! 

Anyhoo... here's Hick's pie:

He ate part of it before I could get a picture. He always eats the pie first, because they bring it out first. Hick said this was actually a medium-sized slice, compared to the sliver he gets sometimes. It was cookies and cream flavor.

Here's Hick's burger. He got everything they offered on it that doesn't cost extra.

I'm not a fan of that lettuce, but you know what a health food fanatic Hick is, heh, heh!

My burger was delicious. I had cheddar cheese on it, and just pickles and onions. It was pretty light on the onions. The toasted bun was delectable.

I had asked for mayo. There was a slight smear of it on the bun. I thought perhaps I'd get some packets on the side. You could see a basket of packets behind the counter. Mayo and mustard and ketchup and other stuff I didn't pay attention to. They used to have bottles of mustard and ketchup on each table with the salt and pepper. NOW there is only the ketchup and salt and pepper.

Of course I complained to Hick. "You'd think for your $55 lunch you could at least get a bottle of mustard on the table!" Hick agreed that their prices and procedures are ridiculous.

I had a decent serving of fries, which I shared with The Pony. 

The Pony ordered the salad, and said, "With as much Cajun Ranch as you can give me." The counter gal said, "So do you want an extra Cajun Ranch?" And The Pony repeated, "With as much Cajun Ranch as you can give me." The gal said, "I'll put on an extra. You're going to need it." I'm sure it cost extra.

There's The Pony's salad, with the Cajun Ranch poured on out of the first of two ramekin-size containers. After eating the top, The Pony applied the second container. Yes, it WAS needed. The Pony gave me the tomatoes off the salad. You will notice that no Cajun Ranch was wasted on those tomatoes!

Heh, heh. Hick had eaten his pie. The Pony's salad came out. Then my burger and fries. The counter gal apologized. "I TOLD them you both ordered fries! It will be just a minute." Not her fault. Hick had originally forgot to say he wanted THE COMBO when he ordered his burger. It was only after I ordered mine that he said he wanted fries, too.

Not gonna lie. I was pleased with this development, since Hick is always the first one done eating, and restlessly plays with his phone, wanting to leave while The Pony and I are still eating, and then wanting to leave the casino earlier because he runs out of money.

Anyhoo... the food was delicious, though pricey. It's one of the best burgers I've had. Though it might have been better with some "extra" mayo, and some mustard for a bite or two.

Hick's Newest Resident Has Complaints

Hick rented an apartment to a new resident. It's the one the guy called about while we were on the way to our closing for the Double Hovel flip house(s). Hick says she has been living in her daughter's basement. But don't you worry about her! The son-in-law is a doctor, so it's a really nice basement. According to Hick, it was the daughter's brother who called. Which would make him the son.

"I think he musta felt bad for his sister. When I gave him the move-in date, he said, 'She can be ready to move in tomorrow!' I told him it doesn't work that way. I was getting the apartment ready."

Anyhoo... Hick met her this week. She said she had three complaints.

"She said the stove is dirty. I felt really bad! I paid Old Buddy's girlfriend to clean that apartment. I called him and he asked her: 'Didn't you clean the stove?' and I heard her in the background saying, 'I thought I did.' But I checked it, and it's not clean. That makes ME look bad! I apologized, and explained that I had paid somebody to do it. She said, 'You need to make them come back and do it right!' But she wanted an appointment to have them come in next week. So that's done.

Then she said there was no grout in the bathroom, and she wanted grout. I paid Old Buddy to do that. He did it right, but he used clear grout. So she thinks there isn't any. I told her I'd fix it. I'll just put white grout over the clear grout, and she'll see it.

She also wants one of them things The Pony has in the bathtub. Like he had here in the shower. A haircatcher. She wants it in the bathroom sink. I'll ask Pony where it came from. Walmart probably has them. So those things are easy to fix. But I feel bad about the stove."

"Is she sociable? Will she play bingo?"

"Yeah. But she has an appointment this Wednesday and will miss bingo. I introduced her to everyone at lunch, and she seems like she'll be active with them. She asked if she could get a meal saved on Wednesday. She has surgery. I told her she could get it at 11:00, and save it for later. But she said they were leaving at 10:00. I said that wouldn't work, they weren't open for lunch yet. She said she'd just have to pick up Taco Bell."

"WHAT? Taco Bell after surgery? That doesn't sound good to me. I guess you probably could get her a meal and leave it in her refrigerator. But then she might expect you to do stuff like that for her all the time."

"Yeah. I ain't startin' something like that. I told her when she can get meals. And a couple of them old ladies have already asked her to come and play cards with them. I think she'll fit in fine. I bet her family is relieved to get rid of her."

Hick is not the most diplomatic in his views. But I figure this lady will be fine as long as Hick fixes whatever goes wrong.

Hick the Do-Gooder Takes a Night Off

Backroads is in the midst of a heat wave. Mid 90s every day. It is draining on Hick, even when he's at his SUS2.5 on the weekends, not doing much physical exertion. Sunday afternoon, Hick said he would be home early.

"Running by This Buddy's house then coming home wore out probably 4:30"

Then another text at 4:26.

"I went to This Buddy's house and he doesn't have any water. So I had to come back to town to get apart.So I'll be working as well for a little while"

That meant Hick was working on the WELL at This Buddy's house. At least he's out of the hospital, and has a new washer. But now no water. Hick didn't get home until after 6:30. He said he had fixed the well a while back, but the box for it was on the ground the way This Buddy had it, and maybe the recent rains had messed with it. Sounds funny to me because we've been bone dry for about a week now, but I'm not a mechanic or even a handyman.

Anyhoo... Hick said the problem was that the capacitor. Heh, heh. You know you're thinking of the flex capacitor in Back to the Future! Hick bought a new one for $70 and put it in. This Buddy kept trying to pay him for it, but Hick said not to worry, he knows the guy is having a tough time right now after being in the hospital, buying a washer, and also having a bad motor installed in his truck.

Monday, Hick came home at noon to get the lawnmower. Went back to town and mowed three yards. He was hot and worn out when he got home, again at 6:30, having waited to meet a guy who was buying something from him.

"I'm wore out. Gonna take a shower."

I heard Hick's phone ringing while he was in the shower. After he was out, and had sat down with a cold bacon sandwich, I heard it again.

"Don't you hear your phone?"

"No. I heard it when I was in the shower. I checked when I got out, and it was This Buddy. I called him back, and he said his well ain't workin' again. I told him I was sorry, and that I could check it in the morning."

"Well, your phone is still ringing. Too bad about the well. Do they have ANY water? To drink? It's so hot."

"Yeah, they have bottled water. Good thing it ain't their air conditioner that broke. I'm not getting out again tonight. I'll look at it in the morning. I guess I'll go check my phone."

Hick went out on the front porch with his phone, in just his tighty-whities. You can do that out here in the country without somebody calling the police. Hick was gone for a while.

"Who was that?"

"It was This Buddy. The son-in-law is there working on the well. That capacitor blew out. He's taking it back to exchange it for a new one."

"Can he do that? Do they have the receipt?"

"No. It's out in my truck. But I took a picture and sent it to This Buddy's wife, so they had it to exchange the capacitor. I hope that's all it needs, but I won't guarantee it. It might work just fine, or it might blow out again if there's something else wrong."

It's a wonder the world can keep on turning when Hick takes a night off.

Backroads Is a Small World After All

Imagine my surprise while waiting in line at the Gas Station Chicken Store this week, and seeing a familiar face taped to the sneeze guard. You can't actually imagine my surprise, because I was NOT surprised. Just pleased that I recognized a winner in the weekly gas contest.

When customers buy gas, they get red tickets, depending on how much they purchase. They look just like the tear-off tickets you get when you buy rides at a carnival. Or maybe for chances in a raffle. The customer tears off one ticket to put in a cardboard box, and keeps the other. Every Monday a ticket is drawn from the box. The winning number is posted. Customers can check their tickets as they come in through the week. If the prize is not claimed by Sunday, the contest starts over. They used to roll over the amount until a winner was found, but I'm not sure they still do that. It may just be a $30 prize every week now. Not actual cash, but $30 worth of gas.

Anyhoo... the winner was a former co-worker with The Pony. She recently retired.

Look! She's a cockeyed optimist! A really nice gal I used to cross paths with occasionally over in the School-Turn Casey's while she was stopped for lunch, and I was buying scratchers. Perhaps the background in her winner's pic can properly convey the claustrophobia I feel in the Gas Station Chicken Store. Only three aisles, no room to stand and wait your turn.

Anyhoo... I'm happy for her. I've never seen her in this store, but her husband is there every day buying diesel fuel. Maybe he's won too many times, or maybe he gives her his tickets to check. 

Some people don't want the red tickets, because they're just passing through. They offer them to others in line. I've turned down many a red ticket. I don't buy T-Hoe's gas there, because the gas pumps are old-fashioned, and sit on concrete islands that I can't clamber over on my way to the door.

It's a Matter of Take and Take

Our gravel road washes away a bit more with every rainstorm. Hick and Buddy's (formerly) Badly Blacktopped Hill can no longer allow water to sluice down its surface. The residents who dug up that blacktop because it was too bumpy probably did not realize they were creating a far worse scenario. Now each drop of water cannot cascade over the bumps as directed by its BFF gravity. Each drop must navigate that hill like a Plinko disk, bumping along each individual rock in the gravel road. 

Nature is all about efficiency. Those water droplets join together at the top of the hill, and cut a channel across the gravel road that runs into the ditch alongside. A ditch that grows deeper and wider with each rainstorm. Traversing this hill is now fraught with danger, should one encounter oncoming traffic. Nobody wants to get two tires off in that 12-18 inch ditch. 

Because Val is always prepared, she puts T-Hoe in automatic 4WD each time she goes up the driveway, lest she be forced off the road. Just in case. That came in handy last week, when a small gray SUV refused to move over while coming up that hill. What in the NOT-HEAVEN? Life is a game of give-and-take. The driver with the safest option should GIVE right-of-way to the other! Not play a game of chicken.

I had to steer T-Hoe into that deep ditch, because the small gray SUV would not move over, would not stop. Just kept coming! Would have collided with T-Hoe, had I not moved. That's poppycock! I'm older, T-Hoe is bigger, and I have more insurance. But I DON'T have time to wait to file a police report in 93-degree temperature.

Once that small gray SUV proceeded up the hill, I tried to steer T-Hoe out of that deep ditch. But no. I was hung up in a pile of gravel that some clueless roadsman had piled in an effort to steer the water into a creek. I gave T-Hoe a little gas. Nope! Spinning tires. I tried reverse. It worked! T-Hoe's 4WD backed me out of that ditch.

On the way home, I stopped to take pictures. They do not do that ditch justice.

You can't really appreciate the depth from this side of the road.

This is one of the wider points of that ditch.

This photo does not do justice to the pile of dirt scraped over in an attempt to divert water to the creek below. That might be my actual tire tracks from where I came out of the ditch onto the dirt pile, and then down into the next section of ditch.

Here's the thing. All that small gray SUV had to do was move over onto the grassy area.

I do it all the time to let other vehicles pass when they are coming down the hill. It's just grass, with some rocks jutting out. No damage if you slow down and creep along. No ditch. Easy to get back on the gravel once the other vehicle has passed. But NO! Other drivers are so darn entitled that they daren't move off the road!

They may as well be sitting upon their high motorized horses, snooty snoots foisted into the stratosphere to avoid the stench of the common people, while refraining from dipping one tread of their metal steed's tire onto a blade of grass.

The same for the bridge-crossers who MUST go first, ne'er a thought to waiting a turn, while I pause and allow passage, only to be denied the thank-you lifted finger. As if it might result in a chronic injury requiring surgery, rehab, a state-of-the-art brace, steroids, opioids, and a permanent disability diagnosis.

The world is their oyster, and if it so much as rolls a pearl their way, they will sigh heavily, so very put-upon, before asking Alexa to call a lawyer.

Depending On the Kindness of Hicksters

Hick got a phone call Thursday evening. I could not hear the specifics, but asked about it when he was done. It was his buddy, the one he did the sewer plumbing for with the infamous 45-degree angle. This Buddy has been in the hospital for almost two weeks. Hick is worried about him, and has visited a couple times.

"This Buddy needs a washing machine delivered. I said I'd do it on Friday."

"Is Old Buddy helping you?"

"No, his wife already paid for it."

"That has nothing to do with my question! At least say you didn't hear me, instead of just making something up."

"Oh. Well. What did you want to know? His wife is paying, and I said she could leave a message with Menards that I'll be the one picking it up."

"Okay. I just wanted to know if you had help. Can you load it by yourself? And unload it?"

"The guys at the store should load it. And the grandsons will be at the house when I get there to unload it."

"Won't Menards deliver the washer?"

"They probably would, but not in the time This Buddy wants it. They usually say 3-5 business days to deliver."

"Will he have a dolly? Can the grandsons get it inside without a dolly?"

"He probably has one, but the two of them should be able to do it."

"Will they know how to hook it up?"

"It's only an electric plug and two water hoses. I'm sure they will know what to do."

"You might want to make sure before you leave."

"Yeah. I will. This Buddy is worried about the $250 he owes me for something he bought. He's been sick, and not able to sell and make money. I told him I don't care about the money. I just want him to get well. He needs to stop worrying about that. It don't mean nothin' to me."

That's our Hick. He's really a good guy.

Val's Skill at Interpreting Hick is Sometimes Lacking

I've grown accustomed to Hick's language. After 36 years, I can basically figure out what he's trying to say. By that I mean I know what he's texting or leaving notes about. Not that I can understand what he's trying to convey when he speaks. That's something I have not yet mastered. But I DO know that when there's a note on the predecessors to FRIG II saying, "Gone to look for dear," that Hick is in the woods somewhere, not at a honky-tonk seeking companionship.

Thursday, I was stumped.

"Im going to Bill-Paying Town to get two freedoms for Bargain House"

Well. I suppose that's a good thing. Who wouldn't want two freedoms? For themselves, or a random flip house. Surely Hick would be improving our situation by picking up two freedoms. I didn't have time to text back. I knew where he was going. I could be pleasantly surprised later when I saw those freedoms.

Except I was dying to know what accoutrements lay in store for Bargain House. I had to call Hick anyway, once I was in town where my phone works, to remind him to check the mailbox. I knew there was no mail service on Juneteenth, but our mail has been getting here in the evenings, after Hick is home. So I wanted him to check for the previous day's mail while he was out. It has become his chore, as I'm saving the number of times my knees must hoist me in and out of T-Hoe.

Anyhoo... at the end of that call, I asked Hick what he was picking up.

"I'm trying to figure out WHAT you are picking up for Bargain House. You said you're getting two FREEDOMS!"

"I did? Heh, heh. I ain't gettin' no freedoms. I guess the phone did that. I was texting you and got a call from a gal I'm doing some house repairs for, and then another call from my buddy who said he knew somebody giving away stuff I might want, and turns out I knew who that lady was, so I called her to say to hold them for me. I'm getting two DOORS."

"I don't know how the phone could change doors to freedoms, but okay."

"I don't know either. I'm just picking up two free doors."

AHA! When he put it that way, I can see how it might happen. The Pony was stumped as well, when I relayed the tale the next morning. Stumped how autocorrect might turn doors to freedoms, until it came to the FREE part.

Every day with Hick is an adventure.