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.

A Bit of an Inconvenience

Backroads is generally a safe area when you consider mayhem that happens in big cities. Well. Except for that time a headless body was found in a septic tank about a half mile from our house... I wrote about it at the time, on my supersecret blog. But aside from that, I don't dwell on possible danger when I leave home. Heh, heh! In retrospect, I might be safer AWAY from home!

Thursday was errand day, which found me over in Sis-Town at the Casey's, getting T-Hoe's gas. I was second in line at the counter. The guy ahead of me was a portly fellow, perhaps late 20s, with a shaved head. He set a case of beer on the counter. 

The clerk was a young guy, probably 21 at the oldest, with a nondescript haircut, black framed glasses, and a nice-guy nerdy demeanor. He pulled that case of beer off the counter, set it on the floor, and said, "Nope. You're banned from here. You need to leave."

!!!!!

Beer Guy was not happy. "I want to talk to a manager!"

"Okay. He's right over here." 

Clerk walked back to the kitchen. A guy in there in a red Casey's uniform shirt was making a pizza or something. Beer Guy went to that area and started arguing.

"YOU'RE the manager?"

"Yes I am."

"I want to see your badge."

"I don't have a badge. I'm one of the managers. My name is [REDACTED]. You can call here any time and ask if I'm a manger."

"I want to talk to you out here."

"I'm not coming out. You need to leave. You have been banned from this store."

"Oh, okay."

"You need to leave."

"That's what they always say. Why don't you make me?"

"Get out now, or I'll call the police."

"CALL THE POLICE THEN!"

"You need to go."

Meanwhile, my clerk in the kitchen was calling the police, I assume, because he was on his phone. He came back to the counter as Beer Guy went out the door hollering.

"Whew! That had my heard pounding! I'm sorry you had to see that."

"At first, I thought maybe you were joking him."

"No. He's been banned. Because he always makes a scene line that. I have a good eye for faces. I knew he shouldn't be in here."

That was a little more excitement than Val needed on her errand day. Though at no time did I consider leaving in the middle of the confrontation. First of all, I had already hobbled a long way from the gas pumps to pay for T-Hoe's gas. Secondly, it was something out-of-the-ordinary to report...

Hick Is Not the Keymaster

Hick went to Illinois again on Wednesday, to pick up merchandise for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). He finally found the scratchers he had bought there last month (and won on), which he couldn't find to take on his last trip. He took them this time, but FORGOT to cash them in! I guess the third time might be the charm.

Anyhoo... Hick sent me a text when he got back to Bill-Paying Town with his merch. I don't know exactly where Hick goes in Illinois, but it's an hour trip from here to the state line. So it takes two hours minimum just to get over there and back, plus Hick's time making his purchases, and stopping for lunch. He had planned to go by his SUS2.5 on the way home, to leave his new merchandise. 

"I just got to Bill-Paying Town to drop off my stuff but just realized I don't have keys to get in so I'll be home in a bit."

Let the record show that Bill-Paying Town, where Hick's SUS2.5 is located, is 30 minutes from home. Not really worth the time to pick up keys and go back, after being gone all day on this trip.

I resisted the urge to ask why Hick didn't just take off the front wall.

A Punishment for One of Hick's Good Deeds

I can't believe I forgot to tell you THIS. It's been a week since the closing on the Double Hovel flip house(s), and Hick has just been providing me with too much entertainment with his SUS2.5ing, and feud with the guy running a business on HIS LAND, and managing the senior apartments, and getting special treatment from the lunch gals, and clinging to his precious Beauty Shop memory while the seller moves in.

Anyhoo... way back on closing day, you may recall that I spied the good ol' boy buyer, and Hick gave him the keys to the Double Hovel right there on the parking lot of the title company. Such a nice thing to do, preventing him from going to a realtor's office to pick them up later.

The next day, Hick came home and sat down on the long couch. He shook his head. Sheepishly. It would have been the perfect GIF for a definition of sheepishly.

"I cain't believe what I done. I give that guy the keys to the flip house, but I forgot one of them opens my Storage Unit. So I cain't get into it. Not the main one I sell out of most, but the one next to it. The first one I fixed up. I have one more set of keys, so I'll take it down there tomorrow and try all of them. I ain't gonna ask that guy for the key back."

Well. You guessed it. None of the other keys worked. But don't you worry about Hick's business! Hick is a resourceful fellow.

"I took the front wall off, and pried off the door frame, and was able to get my hand in there to unlock the door. All I had to do was push out my pegboard. I put it back later, just using different holes to put the screws in to hold it up.

Anyway, I got the lock off, and took it over to Lowe's to get it re-keyed. Then I went back and put it on and fixed my building. Cost me about $7."

[That picture is from 2022, when Hick started building the front wall for his business. Of course it is prettier and painted now, but I can't find a picture of it.]

"Wait! Weren't you afraid somebody would break in while you were gone with the lock?"

"No. I pulled down the garage door part over the front. It locks."

[That is how the SUS2 looks when Hick isn't there doing business.]

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to buy a new doorknob?"

"No. It ain't a doorknob lock. It's a deadbolt lock. Lowe's re-keys them all the time. A new one would have been $15 or $20."

I'm sure you're all relieved that Hick suffered no loss of business due to his good deed, and that his world is once again secure. Breaking into his own store, and fixing the problem, took about an hour.

Hick Can Hardly Deal with the Dismemberment of His Darling

Hick came home around 1:30 on Monday. He was in the bathroom when I heard his phone ring, and a muffled conversation.

"Who was that, your girlfriend?"

"It was Old Buddy. He went by the flip house, and seen that guy who bought it has the water heater out of the Beauty Shop, and on the front porch of the main house. I guess he's already tearing it out. I can understand him wanting to switch the water heaters. The one from the Beauty Shop is new. The other one works fine. It just needs to be flushed out, because of the water standing in it. Oh, well. It's HIS. He bought it. So I guess he can do what he wants with it..."

Poor Hick. And his buddy Old Buddy. They've put so much time into that property. And now it's being ripped apart. Too bad that Old Buddy lives near there, and that it's on Hick's way to The Pony's house and the Senior Center. Maybe when the construction starts on the new roundabout, their paths will be diverted by the detours.

Father's Day Feast

The Pony came out Sunday to join us for a Father's Day Feast. Hick and The Pony had ribeye steaks, and I had a bratwurst.

There's Hick's plate. Ribeye, garlic cheese bread, roasted vegetables, a random slice of bacon that was cooked on the vegetables, and a salad. Yes! Hick asked for a salad! He washed his meal down with a bottle of Michelob Dry.

The Pony had the same, with the addition of a bratwurst, and a giant baked potato. The Pony's beverage was rum and Coke, with a bottle of Sprite on the side.

I had a bratwurst, bread, vegetables, and salad, with a Shasta Zero Sugar Cola. That's not some artsy smear of sauce. Just the liquids leaking from my vegetables. They were flavored by cooking with a dash of Worcestershire Sauce and steak sauce and Hidden Valley Ranch powder, with slices of bacon on top. This was a new flavor of bratwurst from the Save A Lot over in Sis-Town: garlic parmesan. I recommend it!

Again, I forgot pictures of dessert. We had a big cookie with a Father's Day message and a hammer drawn with icing. Also an angel food cake, and some powdered donuts. All storebought.

Plenty of leftovers went home with The Pony, with the rest in FRIG II for future suppers.

The Double Hovel Kitchen Table Has Been ReHomed

Don't you worry about the furniture Hick took out of the Double Hovel flip house(s) on the Thursday before closing. Part of it has already found a home. It only took a couple of days. Hick had it in his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) that weekend.

"This lady come in with her three kids. A boy and girl maybe 8 or 10, and an older girl. The Lady said she would give me $50 for the table and the benches. The older girl rolled her eyes and said, 'WHY? It's so ugly!' The Lady said, 'Right now you're sitting on the floor to eat. This is a good table. When you start earning money, YOU can buy a table you think is good enough.' Then she told her to go wait in the car. 

I said, 'A teenager, huh?' and The Lady said, 'She's 19 and thinks she knows everything.' 

I told The Lady, 'You can have that table for free. I appreciate that you're trying to raise your kids right. If you want those two end tables and the lamp, you can have them too.' She thanked me and said that was great, that she would love the lamp and tables. It took them two trips to get everything hauled off.'"

That's my Hick. Willing to pass up a 50-cent or even a $50 profit to make a point.

They're Reuben Val the Wrong Way

The day after our closing on the sale of the Double Hovel flip house(s) was REUBEN DAY at the Senior Center! I had seen it on the monthly menu, but hadn't mentioned it to Hick, because we'd been a bit preoccupied with the closing. And getting our CHECKS! Good thing Hick realized there would be Not-Heaven to pay if he ever ate a Reuben and did not bring one home for Val.

Now there was a monkey wrench The Universe had great chortling joy tossing into our Reuben routine. And on the very day after the long-awaited sale of the Double Hovel. Oh, Universe! You're such a prankster! 

Hick had nowhere to keep the Reubens between the end of lunch at noon, and when he comes home at 5:00. It's a 20-minute trip. No longer can he stash those Reubens in the refrigerator(s) at the Double Hovel! Hick has taken the fridge out of Bargain House for remodeling. The only solution was leaving our Reubens at The Pony's house. Which was fine, because I was going by at 3:00 to pick up our CHECKS, which were also at The Pony's house. Catastrophe averted!

Anyhoo... when I eventually got home, Hick was already there, to carry in some groceries and the Reubens. The Reubens were in two white plastic grocery bags sent out by the Senior Center. Each bag contained a large white styrofoam box, and a small white styrofoam box of dessert on top. The bags were tied with approximately 1,033 knots apiece. Don't get me started! My mom used to tie up bags like that. What's the point? Are the contents going to escape like runaway socks in the dryer? A single half-knot should suffice.

Anyhoo... I had to cut open the bags while Hick was out in the yard/field mowing. To see my precious Reuben, and what came with it. Hick said he had ordered mine, and as he was leaving after lunch, the workers (Hick's gals) asked if he wanted one, too. Of course Hick did! I started with the desserts, because they were on top.

It was coconut cream pie. One of these things is not like the others! In fact, I think I am using the term "pie" loosely, in regard to the container on the right. 

I opened the sandwich container that had been under the broken pie:

Mmm! That Reuben Sandwich looked just fine. And there was double salad. It came with a squeeze pouch of ranch dressing.

Then I opened the container under the nice large slice of pie:

Hullo! What's this then? AN EXTRA HALF REUBEN!!! I smelled a rat! Not literally. I smelled a delicious Reuben (and-a-half). Yet there was only a semblance of salad. Something fishy is going on at the Senior Center!

Of course I quizzed Hick, after proclaiming that I was taking the extra half Reuben. That's only fair, right? Hick had eaten a full Reuben at lunch, and would now still have another full Reuben for supper. Plus he would have double salad. Hick doesn't get enough greens. AND I was giving him both desserts. I was doing Hick a favor, actually, by hijacking that extra half Reuben.

After we had eaten, I pointed out that those workers play favorites.

"Well. You can sure see how partial they are at the Senior Center. Imagine all those elderlies who get the take-out lunch, having a broken sliver of pie. And then YOU getting what looks like a double slice of pie! Plus an extra half sandwich. What was supposed to go in that other section?"

"Beets. It was beets. I know you don't like beets. That one was supposed to be yours."

"Yeah, sure. They gave me an extra half sandwich because...? No way was that container meant for me, with a giant slice of pie on top. And they know you don't eat your salad. All the other times, you've brought me beets and said you never had any idea I don't like beets."

"What can I say? The gals there like me. Oh, and they gave me the extra half sandwich. Because Maxine couldn't eat all of hers. She can never eat the full meal. So they asked if I wanted it, and I said yes."

So much is so wrong here! But I will gladly accept Maxine's leftover half Reuben, just like kids swapping out a school lunch to trade favorites, even though I had to steal it from Hick. 

I don't mind Hick getting The Favorite treatment from his gals, as long as it doesn't affect 

MY REUBEN! I hereby lay claim to any extra Reubenage in the future.

Hick's Rumpus Wants to Kick His Check-Writing Mouth

Hick has had a bee in his bonnet over His Land being used by the garage door guy. 

"If he's not gonna buy My Land, I'm going to drive stakes right down the middle of it! 

I have a right to grow a garden on My Land!"

"It's not that big. You're going to get yourself shot."

"It's 40 feet by 80 feet! Even though it's shaped like a slice of pizza, I could use it for something!"

"You're starting a feud, and the city will find ways to make you suffer. The Pony's house is there, and it's still in our name. Don't do anything crazy."

He went by the city offices on Tuesday to ask about That Guy's building permit. The gal working the desk told him the sign is not an issue, because now That Guy has a building permit. Hick kept trying to ask how he got it, since the building inspector is the one who told him the sign was not approved and would have to come down. 

"She just said, 'I am not going to argue with you over this.'"

"Yes! You're making a nuisance of yourself. There are already people with the city who don't like you. She doesn't have any power to do anything. She's just a secretary or something, I'm sure. She can't do anything, and she was just trying to get rid of you."

"Well. I have my meeting with the building inspector on Thursday, and then I have my meeting with Lawyer to see if it's worth it to try and sell My Land to That Guy. I'll ask Lawyer about what the building inspector tells me."

Hick got a call from the law office, saying they had an earlier appointment, and stopped by to talk to Lawyer on Thursday morning, concerning His Land that has been encroached-upon by the garage door business.

"Lawyer said he could not represent me in this, because he also represents That Guy with the business. Said he couldn't take either side in this one. Can't represent either one of us. So I asked him if I could get anywhere with the city, about letting him put his sign up without a building permit, on a part of my land. Lawyer said I COULD talk to the city about it, but they'd tell me what they wanted about easements and such. And to remember that the city has a lawyer working for free, and this businessman is bringing in tax money for the city, while I would be paying my own lawyer. So I said, 'Basically, you're just saying that I might as well quit paying taxes on My Land and let it go back up for the tax sale in three years?' And Lawyer said yes, basically."

"Then that's that. I don't see why we should be paying taxes on it if another guy is using it. Even though it's not that much."

"OR, we can just keep paying the taxes, and let the kids deal with it when we die."

At least nobody is going to drive stakes down the middle of it...

Let the record show that the real estate tax on Hick's Land was $8.59 last year. 

I'm pretty sure it is increasing, since we just got a letter from the Board of Equalization last week. It specifically mentioned increases for our hillbilly mansion, The Pony's house, the (now sold!) flip house, and Bargain House. I think our other assorted properties will also increase, but probably not enough that the county saw need to notify us on each one.

It would be IRONIC if Hick's Land had a tax increase because it's improved property, due to That Guy's business being on it.

Hick's Money Is No Good Here

While on the way to our closing for the Double Hovel flip house(s) on Monday, Hick got a phone call. His number is programmed into the radio of A-Cad, so The Pony and I heard the whole thing when he answered. It was guy asking about the Senior Apartments. Hick gave him the square footage, the layout of the rooms, the price, and other pertinent information. Then agreed to email him the requested application, if he would text Hick his email address.

When the call was done, The Pony asked Hick if he'd cleaned out the bad refrigerator yet.

"No. It will have to be taken outside for cleaning!"

"I can help you move it, if you need somebody."

"No. Old Buddy and his girlfriend are doing that job for $80. They can use the money, and I don't have to do it."

"Are you paying them? Like you pay Old Buddy cash for helping you?"

"No, the association is paying them. The one that runs the apartments. Oh. I got in trouble the other day from my boss. Because I took a couple people's rent money in cash. He said I wasn't supposed to do that. I told him that was the first I heard. Nobody ever told me not to take cash."

"I can see how they might not want that. A tenant could say they paid you, and somebody not honest in your job might keep the money and not turn it in. So it's a good policy."

"I give them a receipt. In fact, that's the only people I give a receipt. The ones who pay in cash. But that ain't the reason. He said the accountant gal don't like havin' money layin' around."

"Heh, heh! An accountant who doesn't like working with money!"

"I guess I'll have to tell them to get a money order next time."

I suppose having cash around might be like bait for burglars. But how long do they hang onto it? Can nobody make a bank drop? Other businesses seem to be able to deal with cash. It's just one more thing about Hick that some people at the city don't like. Don't get me started on the issue with the guy building his sign on "Hick's Land."

Oh, the BeautyShopmanity!

I hope you're ready for this. I have a case of smelling salts. Some cool washcloths for forehead application. A bevy of fainting couches. Some supplemental oxygen. Try to remain calm. This too, shall pass...

While waiting for our appointment time on the parking lot at the closing facility for the sale of the Double Hovel flip house(s), Hick got out to give his set of keys to the buyer. Try as we might, through surreptitiously cracked windows, The Pony and I could not hear the conversation. When Hick got back into A-Cad, he shared some cold hard facts with us.

"That guy's daughter is friends with the people who bought the green house. The one across the street from ours, that just sold after them guys renovated it."

"Oh. Is she young? That could be the gal I saw in jeans shorts when the Red Truck Guy was parked in front of the Double Hovel last week."

"I don't know for sure how old she is. Or if she's going to be living there. Only that she knows them people across the street."

And then Hick revealed the most unsettling information of all! Are you sitting down? Do so, immediately! Position your device so that you may read the following proclamation with your head between your knees.

"That guy is going to turn the Beauty Shop into a workshop."

"NOOOOO!!!"

The Pony and I exchanged WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN looks.

"That was the best part! Realtor said everybody was always calling about the Beauty Shop! It's so cute! And after all that trouble you went to, rebuilding it from the floor up."

"I know. It is what it is. I had thought about making it a workshop before."

"You did not. You were going to make it a garage."

"Well, it would have been easier to sell that way. People could have got loans on it, with just one house and an outbuilding."

"Yes, but you didn't know we'd have trouble selling until you already had it listed, and Realtor told you. AND we would not have gotten this price for it with just a garage."

"That's true. It's just a shame he'll be tearing out everything I put in."

"Not really, Dad. He'll have a bathroom in it. And a fridge where he can keep drinks and snacks."

"Yeah. But I put in the washer and dryer for nothing."

"They were used. It's not like you bought new ones."

"Yeah. It'll make a nice workshop."

You know that if Hick had turned that building into a workshop, nobody would have been interested in the property. They'd have been wishing there was an extra little cottage on it to rent... At least that's what I keep telling myself.

The Double Hovel Has Changed Hands, but the Fat Lady Has Not Yet Taken Her Curtain Call

Our closing for the Double Hovel flip house(s) was at 2:30 on Monday. We picked up The Pony, and got to the right place (!) at 2:00. Hick had forgotten my handicap placard, which was hanging in SilverRedO because he took it to Illinois on his business trip last Wednesday so he could park closer with his sore knee. That's kind of illegal, but I don't begrudge Hick using it. I'm pretty sure he could get his own placard, what with his age and back surgery. Anyhoo... Hick shamelessly parked in one of the four handicap spaces anyway. Almost daring anybody to complain when I got out with my cane.

We didn't see Realtor's car, and I didn't want to go inside yet, not knowing how long we would wait, and the seating situation. All at once, I noticed a man walking towards a RED TRUCK that was parked in the row across from us.

"That's HIM! The guy I saw at the flip house the other day. In the red truck!"

"Are you sure that's him?"

"Yes! Look at him! I said it was a good ol' boy! I don't know that woman, though. She's not the one I saw with him. She must be a realtor."

"If you're sure that's him, I can give him this set of keys."

"It's him! Just get out and say you hate to interrupt, but is he the guy who just bought that property? And then give him the keys."

"Yeah. I could. If you're sure it's him. Otherwise he'll have to get my set of keys from Realtor."

"It's HIM! He'll be glad you don't have keys anymore!"

Hick got out, and inserted himself into their conversation. Then he handed over the keys, and stood chatting. The Pony and I put our windows down, but couldn't overhear. Then Realtor arrived, and we all went inside. Of course The Pony and I got there after Hick and Realtor were already seated in the singe chair, and on the leather couch. 

Realtor stood up. "Oh, you can sit here."

"Thanks. But I'd rather not. I don't know if I can get up!"

Hick suggested that I sit on the arm of the couch, which was nice and flat, like a seat. But one of the staff came out and must have been worried about my ample rumpus, because she said, "Oh, come on back. I can put you in your room now." 

The room had carpet with confetti all over it. And a long table. And four rolly chairs. I was hesitant to sit. I don't like rolly chairs. But The Pony stood behind mine to stabilize it. And wouldn't you know it, when I sat down, that chair sank to its lowest setting!!! I hate it when that happens. Sometimes my rolly chair in the basement would do the same thing.

"Great! Now I'll never get up! Of all the chairs to choose, I got this one! I feel like a child, peeking over the table." Indeed, my chin was about level with the surface. The Pony had a different kind of rolly chair, and Hick and Realtor had the same as mine. They all offered to switch, but I didn't really want to get up and take another chance.

Then the Closer came in with an extra chair of the same kind. And left to get paperwork. I decided to try the chair in the corner. It was black leather, with four metal legs, no wheels. The Pony helped me up and moved that chair. It was better! I couldn't scoot it up to the table, but my arms were long enough to sign, and I didn't feel like I was sitting on the floor.

We signed about 10 forms, and the deal was done. Closer asked if we wanted a wire transfer, or checks.

CHECKS! We wanted checks! She left to go get them printed.

Realtor said she thought that was a good idea. "There are too many crooks who have way too much time to figure out how to steal wire transfers. And with a check, you have it right there in your hand, to deposit. You don't have to keep checking to see if it's in your bank."

Well. After 10 or 15 minutes, Closer came back. "The other abstract company is sending us a wire transfer. I expect it within the next hour. Would you like to wait? Or come back? I can give you a call when it's in."

Hick said he would come over the next day to pick it up.

HOW IS THAT FOR BEING CHEATED OUT OF OUR GRAND SELLING EXPERIENCE??? I had gotten a text from The Pony that morning, asking if I was as excited as The Pony to be getting our checks today! So we've sold the property, but we left without any money!

It's always something...

The King and Queen of Garbled Information

As you read this, it's the day of our closing on the sale of the Double Hovel flip house(s). I really hope everything goes off without a hitch. No small feat when two of the involved parties are Hick and Realtor. 

I have only spoken to Realtor at other closings, and she seemed fairly normal and savvy to me. Hick is another story. But lately, I don't know which one is wielding the monkey wrench. Dealing with them is like watching a performance of "Who's On First." The amateur junior college theater version.

You may recall the NO CONDITIONS contract on our property. And the "inspector" that turned out to be an inspector and an appraiser. Then there was the "behind the courthouse" site for our closing. And just a few days ago, Realtor called Hick in a panic, asking where the report from the building inspector might be. 

I thought this "report" was in reference to the inspection/appraisal that just happened last week. And shouldn't Realtor be the one who had that? Why would Hick know where it was? Surely the buyers and/or their own realtor would have a copy. 

Hick said no, this was about the original report from the building inspector from the city, back when work was finished, and he certified the residences for occupancy, and we listed the property with Realtor. "She took it because she was afraid somebody would pick it up." WHAT? That report was just lying around the house? Hick said he told Realtor that she had put it in our file, saying she wanted to keep everything together. Realtor didn't have it, but said that she was sure the city building inspector could send her a copy.

Anyhoo... I'm not sure where all this confusion originates. Realtor has been around here doing business for a long time. She's no spring chicken. You'd think she has all her ducks in a row, though Lawyer mentioned to Hick that Realtor has been sick lately. Small town, you know...

Anyhoo... midweek, Hick said he had a text from Realtor with the closing time, and the location was different from that "behind the courthouse" place Hick had ASSUMED it was before. Not sure if this is a Hick problem or a Realtor problem, since Hick could never actually give me the name of the place, and consulted my estranged BFF Google for the info. This time he read off the name from Realtor's text.  It is NOT behind the courthouse. It is over a mile from the courthouse, and across the road from a Colton's Steakhouse.

Hick can do a lot of things well. Providing reliable information is not one of them.

I really hope we show up at the right place for the closing!