Evolving Plans for the Cheap House

We still don't have a closing date for the really Cheap House that is in foreclosure. Hick has been thinking about what he's going to do, once we actually complete the formalities and take possession.

"I was thinkin' about that house, and I might just get it all cleaned out and patched up, then sell it as a flip."

"At the price we're getting it, I would agree with that. Then we could use the profit to get another flip that doesn't need as much work."

"Yeah. It looks good from the outside. But I'd tear off the back porch they cobbled on."

"Of course you'll fix the hole in the floor?"

"Yeah. And tear out all the drywall. Basically take it down to the studs. So it's all ready for somebody else to take over and do what they want. Like I did with Pony House."

"That sounds good to me. We'll have to ask Pony about it. But you know how long we've been looking, and there's hardly been ANY reasonable flip houses all year long. Even Realtor said she doesn't know what's going on. It's like somebody is hoarding all the flip houses."

"This one is in a good neighborhood, so it should sell if somebody wants a flip."

"I was looking yesterday, and saw THREE flip houses in a decent price range for what they are. One doesn't show any inside pictures, so it's probably a hoarder house that's trashed. The other is in a town that's hard to re-sell. But the third one looks decent. Somebody has started re-doing a couple rooms. You should look at them. It will give you an idea what we might ask for Cheap House once you tear it out. I think we could double our money on it, since we won't be spending much."

The Pony is on board with this plan. Now all we need to do it get a date to sign the papers, and fork over our money. Oh. And Hick needs to get off his less-than-$300 a week job, and finish Bargain House.

There Oughta Be a Law! Oh, Wait...

I stopped by the Backroad's Casey's on Friday afternoon, for my scratchers. I won $25 after spending $10. But that great windfall, heh, heh, is not the point of this tale.

There was a white pickup truck parked squarely in the handicap space. The other spaces in front of the store were full. So I had to park at the farthest end, next to that white pickup, by the dumpster. Of course there was no handicap plate, nor placard, on that white pickup truck.

As I was sliding down from the driver's seat, I saw a city police car pull onto the Casey's lot. He was coming straight towards me, facing the front of the store.

"OOH! Good! He'll see me hobbling out, with my placard dangling from the mirror, and this unmarked white pickup truck PARKED ILLEGALLY IN MY RIGHTFUL HANDICAP SPACE!" That's the thought that went through my mind. Exactly. With quotes and proper grammar, of course. Once a VALedictorian, always a VALedictorian!

The police car turned left and drove across the front of the store, exiting on the side street.

WHAT IN THE NOT-HEAVEN???

What is the point of having laws if nobody enforces them! It's not like that police car roared into Casey's, lights flashing and siren wailing. It was just a casual drive. Perhaps a cut-through to avoid traffic. Still, there was clearly a vehicle in the lone handicap parking space, unmarked with legal permittage, right in front of the sign proclaiming: $50 to $300 Fine.

No wonder the scofflaws continue to take up the handicap parking spaces. There's NO PENALTY because the police ignore it. 

And what's with that law enforcement officer, anyway? Isn't he sworn to protect and to serve? To protect Val's rightful handicap parking space from usurpers, and serve her bloated sense of entitledness? 

The Popular Hick Gets Another Nighttime Phone Call

We were in the middle of watching Survivor on Wednesday night when Hick's phone rang. I had to turn down the TV volume so he could hear his phone. Which meant that I could also hear his phone conversation, since Hick needs a traveling Garrett-Morris-style interpreter for the hard-of-hearing.

It was a woman from the senior apartments, asking permission to light a fire. Just four logs. She was planning to have three friends come over. I guess they would each have their own log, heh, heh! The whole plan sounded sketchy to me. Hick assured her it would be fine, but he needed to bring a metal saw to cut the chain, and he would do it tomorrow. Obviously, there were some details to which I was not privy.

"What in the world? Does she have a fireplace?"

"No. She wants to light a fire out back, in the fire pit. They want to roast some marshmallows. I said it's fine, but I have to cut a chain."

"Why is there a chain on a fire pit?"

"The old guy who died, who was there before me, had his grill chained to the fire pit so nobody would steal it."

"How can you chain something to a fire pit? Isn't it just a circle of bricks? What does the chain hook on?"

"It's an old-timey fire pit, Val. It's that shape."

"You have told me nothing! WHAT shape? Where does the chain go?"

"It's square. With a chimney up the back."

"Still not understanding the chain thing."

"Through the metal!"

"You mean it has a grill? A grill chained to a grill?"

"Like at a campground. There's metal to lay the meat on."

"Oh. So it's like, a metal rack cemented into the sides of the thing you called a fire pit, that is actually a grill? With another grill chained to it?"

"Yes. You cain't understand nothin'!"

Anyhoo... on Thursday afternoon, Hick reported that he had freed the fire pit from the grill by using a jigsaw.

"You used a SAW? How thick was that chain??? At school, the janitors just used a bolt cutter to clip through the loops of a padlock. Surely the chain wasn't thicker than a padlock."

"No. But I don't have bolt cutters. I DO have a jigsaw. Now they can roast their marshmallows."

I imagine those ladies are going to make a night of it on Saturday, watching a fireworks display at the top of Main Street. There's a big fundraiser going on all day Saturday, with the street blocked, and vendors, and a cruise with old cars, culminating in fireworks. You'd think Hick would know about that, and put 2 and 2 together, since he inserts himself into everything SENIOR in the town.

Now Hick is going to want bolt cutters. I'm pretty sure. I don't know what's going to happen to the old man's grill, now that it's been unchained.

O Reuben, My Reuben

Hey, it's October. You know what THAT means! Time for another monthly menu for the Senior Center lunches, to see when my precious Reuben Sandwich will be served. Hick actually brought home a menu on Wednesday, October 1st. This one starts on Monday, October 6th, because that's where the last menu left off. 

Hick was outside mowing when I looked over the menu. I was eager to see my Reuben day, since I had "missed" the last one. Surely this time it wouldn't be on a Friday, giving Hick an excuse to not bring me a Reuben. I looked. And looked. 

THERE WAS NO REUBEN SANDWICH ON THE MENU!!!

How could this be? There's always a Reuben! I saw a couple new items, like Pork Roast and Cabbage. Chili and Grilled Cheese. Chicken Pot Pie. Maybe they had switched over to a winter menu. Why? A Reuben Sandwich can be eaten during the winter! It's hearty and filling. What if I had already eaten my last Reuben, and didn't even appreciate the significance?

When Hick came in, I bemoaned the loss of my Reuben.

"I looked at your new menu, and there's NO REUBEN! You should really feel bad about not getting me one last time. Now I have to wait a whole other month to see if it comes back."

"There's a Reuben."

"No. I looked at every day."

"It's on Monday."

"WHAT?"

I grabbed the menu and read the whole thing for Monday:

Broccoli Cheddar Soup

Reuben Sandwich

Slaw

Pecan Pie Brownies

MY REUBEN WAS BACK!!!

Who in the Not-Heaven puts Reuben under soup? That's like putting Baby in a corner! Not cool! I was too relieved to be reunited with my Reuben to hold a grudge against the menu-maker. But then the situation took a dark turn...

"Oh, good! I didn't see it! Now you can bring me a Reuben on Monday!"

"Well, Monday I'm going to Illinois to pick up a trash dumpster. I won't be there for lunch."

"WHAT? You always have an excuse!"

"I told you I was getting a dumpster from a lady off Facebook. She finally sent me her address. That's what I was waiting for. She had agreed to sell it to me, then when I asked for her address she quit talking to me. I don't know how she thought I was going to pick it up without knowing where it was! I didn't pay her nothin'. So it don't make no sense. It can't be a scam if I don't pay her until I pick it up."

"Of all the days, you have to go to Illinois for a DUMPSTER on REUBEN DAY?"

"Yeah. I need it for the apartments. It's a long way to go, but I'll get my money back from the apartments. I'll try to tell my friend who runs the kitchen to save me a Reuben. Maybe I can get back in time to pick it up."

Have I mentioned that I do not like Hick having his less-than-$300-a-month job with the senior apartments? Now it might cost me a Reuben!

Odd Ends at Bargain House

Hick has been project-hopping at Bargain House. Some days Old Buddy calls in sick, so he works on things that he can do alone. When he has Old Buddy, they sometimes work together on things like putting down the flooring, or running pipes for plumbing. Other times, Hick designates things for Old Buddy to do, while he runs errands to pick up materials.

Monday, Hick sent a picture of the back door, where he made a laundry room by enclosing a section of the original back porch.

"New window installed by back door into laundry room." It's a cute little window. Enough to see out if somebody is at your back door, and onto the side street. Of course, there's a peephole in the back door now. And it looks much better painted.

I questioned Hick about that door when he put it in. "Isn't that an INSIDE door? It doesn't look like it will hold up to the weather." Hick said it is designed to be an outside door. That a coat of paint would protect it. It's a solid door, not a hollow-core door like used for interiors. And that most houses used to have wooden doors anyway, not metal doors like we have today.

A door's a door. It keeps your stuff in, and people out. Now there's a laundry room for the future occupants. Which I think is an improvement, considering the back porch originally looked like this:

I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have a house with a wooden back door in the laundry room than a back porch like this.

Now the battle starts again. Hick wants to leave this "addition" like it is, except putting a stain on the wood. I think it needs siding, which Hick refuses. Or at least to be painted light yellow to match the siding on the rest of the house, because like this, it sticks out like sore thumb. 

"I WANT it to stand out, Val! The whole point is that you want people to notice a door."

"Then you should have painted the door some other color besides white! This section stands out, but not in a good way. I'll ask my people what they think! I'm pretty sure they will go for the siding, or at least paint that can match the house."

Of course, Hick will do what Hick wants to do. I just don't see the point of trying to make the rest of the house "nice" by putting in that cute little window, and then making this part look cobbled on. Prospective buyers are not going to know what an eyesore the back porch USED to be. They'll just notice what an eyesore it is now...

The Opening Before the Closing

The Pony and I were at the title office at 1:45, for our closing scheduled at 2:00. 

"There's Dad's truck, but I don't know if he's in there or inside visiting his buddy."

"I know. Is that Realtor's car parked in front of us? Is she able to drive again? It's a big car, like hers. Text Dad and see if he's inside yet."

"I did, but I'm not getting a response. He hasn't read it."

"His phone is messed up. He might not get it until tomorrow. Call him."

"No. That's alright..."

"Okay. I'll call."

Hick answered on the second ring. He was not inside yet, but at his buddy's place. In fact, he sounded annoyed that I had bothered him."

"Well. That was abrupt!"

"That's just Dad."

A couple minutes later, The Pony said he was coming down the sidewalk. Which is elevated to about waist high, and has steps and a ramp for access. I looked out The Pony's window, and saw two waists and their accompanying sets of legs. It was Hick, and his buddy.

"You're parked about like them people up there! Bad."

"Well, I couldn't see the curb because your truck is parked behind me, and I had to cut in at an angle. I didn't want to hit the wall with the side of my car."

"My buddy came out to see you. Remember him?"

"Uh... no?"

"Are you sure? You should! Don't you remember him from the games?"

"Games...? I don't know what you're talking about."

Buddy leaned over and looked in the window. "From trivia? With This Guy and His Wife?"

"Oh. That must have been over at Heritage Hall. I'm sorry. I knew you weren't one of the teachers I played with all the time. That's been 15 or 20 years ago!"

"Yes. That was it."

"See? I told you she cain't remember nothin'! This is just more proof."

Then Hick said we should go on inside, because they were probably ready for us. And Hick just stood there staring at me while I navigated three steps, then went out of my way to get to the bottom of the ramp to get to the door. THEN he went in first, leaving The Pony to grab the door and hold it for me.

Realtor was already inside, which surprised Hick. "I thought you wasn't gonna be here today."

"I had an appointment this morning, but I got back in time. My husband drove me. He's waiting out front." Realtor also had a CANE! Not only is she still recovering from her fractured humerus, and that SLOW trip in the ambulance when she lost consciousness and fell... but now her back is hurt, so she's walking with a cane.

As we were leaving, Hick went out of the conference room first. Then Realtor. Then me, followed by The Pony, who had held my rolly chair so it  didn't roll away as I was getting up. Hick was holding the front door open for me! I was shocked! Until I realized he wasn't, when I was about halfway out.

I turned to Realtor. "Oh. Sorry. I should have known he wasn't holding the door open for ME! He was holding it for you!"

"That's okay. I'm slow enough with my back hurt." She passed me going down the ramp. Looked into that badly-parked big car in front of T-Hoe, and declared that her husband was ASLEEP! Heh, heh. At least my bad-parking self was able to stay awake during the 15-minute proceedings!

I was a little bit Not-Happy with Hick for his words and actions. Which he heard about later! To which he replied, "IF I hurt your feelings, THEN I'm sorry."

That's as close as I'm ever gonna get to an apology.