Let's Find One More Job for Val to Do

Hick enjoys staying busy, with assorted tasks and multifaceted do-gooding and numerous money-making ventures. I do not like staying busy. I have my routine. I'm set in it. I don't profit monetarily. I don't need recognition. In fact, I sometimes RESENT (hard to believe, isn't it?) taking care of the bills and paperwork that come with Hick's SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) and the various flip houses. My miniscule responsibilities are nothing compared to Hick's activities. But he enjoys "work," and I do not.

NOW I'M A METER READER!

It's not something I applied for. It doesn't even pay less than $300 a month. And Hick has to help me. Sure, it's only once a month. But I feel put-upon!

We got the gas bill for Bargain House this week. It felt very thick. Four pages, when it's usually two. Further investigation revealed a notice.

WE NEED YOUR HELP READING YOUR NATURAL GAS METER

We're unable to obtain a reading of your actual usage on your natural gas meter, so we had to estimate your most recent bill for the service address listed on your enclosed statement. We're asking for your help to provide you a bill based on your actual usage.

Simply follow the instructions below to provide your meter reading within the next five days.

The bill was dated on Nov 12. We received it on Nov 18. That's already past five days, depending on what starting point they want to use. And nothing about the instructions have the remotest resemblance to SIMPLY! It's a full page, describing three kinds of meters, and asking for the meter number, and the current reading. Oh, and once I have that information, I have to go online to submit it!

I wouldn't know a gas meter from my ample rumpus! So Hick had to assist. You can imagine how that went...

I told Hick what I needed, before he went to Bargan House on the morning of Nov 19. How I needed the meter number, which should be 9 DIGITS. And then I needed the reading, which might be an "advanced meter" with a digital readout, but only the numbers on the left of the decimal. Or it might be a "diaphragm meter" of four dials. Or five dials. Which should be read alternately counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise. Using the number which each dial has just passed.

"I'll just send you a picture!" declared Hick, refusing to take the page of instructions.

Hick sent me a picture of a gas meter. And texted the numbers of the reading.

That number has 10 DIGITS! I tried to call Hick about it, but his phone went straight to voice mail. I sent a text. Hick replied that he had SENT A PICTURE, so that should be good enough. And that the numbers he had sent in a separate text (11 DIGITS, with a decimal) were the reading. That I must be confused (you know, being a woman that doesn't know the difference in a meter reading, and a meter number!) and not counting right. Because he SENT A PICTURE! [Meanwhile, I was silently fuming that Hick was a man, you know, who can't count to 9.]

Obviously, that wouldn't work. So the next day, Hick went back and took another picture of a meter number. Which indeed had 9 DIGITS. I went online and filled out a questionnaire and submitted the info. We'll see how this gas bill is affected. 

I asked Hick why the gas company has to estimate our bill, after all this time of having an actual reading. "Did you have something in the way? While you were doing that work on the back porch?"

"No, Val. Nothing was in the way. I actually had it turned off for a while, the day we worked on the furnace. They cain't read it because they ain't sendin' a meter reader!"

"So now we're working for the gas company?"

"Seems like it."

I don't know what's going on here. But it seems odd that a meter that was once read every month has suddenly started relying on ME (well, assisted by Hick) to report our gas usage to the gas company. You'd think we could get a discount, for taking over a meter readers job...

T-Hoe is BACK!

We took T-Hoe to Mick the Mechanic on Monday afternoon. He was supposed to be home Tuesday afternoon. Nope! Which was bad for me, but good for T-Hoe, since it means more work was being done. Hick gave Mick a list of what he wanted checked/fixed. We knew it would be expensive. Hick looked up the average cost of only replacing struts on a Tahoe, and Google said it was around $1,500. We all know that T-Hoe needed more than just struts. Here's what he got:

Front Struts (2)

Rear Shocks (2)

Front Rotors (2)

Rear Rotors (2)

Front Brake Pads (1)

Rear Brake Pads (1)

Sway Bar Link (2)

Oil Change (1)

Plug Wires (1)

Spark Plugs (8)

tax [$154.62]

labor [$875.00]

The grand total for T-Hoe's makeover was $2,683.27. Again, we were not surprised. I have money set aside for such incidentals, so we're not headed to the poorhouse. I won't even have to pry any of Hick's less-than-$300-a-month salary from his gnarled hard-working hands. It's covered. Paid by check and a trade.

Yes. That's right. Hick did some bartering. "I have a couple things at my shop that Mick wants to trade for. They're worth $1,675.00. So I wrote the check for the rest. Now we owe ME the $1,675.00."

Hmm... why am I suspicious that Hick is making money off the battered carcass of T-Hoe?

Anyhoo... T-Hoe drives like a dream! The steering is firm and not meandering. When I hit a bump, it's a little jolt, not sailing like I'm in The Perfect Storm. At the stoplight, T-Hoe hums nicely, rather than choking like he's about to die. As I'm coming down the hill by Mailbox Row, T-Hoe slows smoothly, not with grabby, whiplash-inducing jabs.

Oh, and T-Hoe seems to have GROWN TWO INCHES! I noticed that when I got out at the Gas Station Chicken Store. It seemed like forever before my foot touched the ground getting out. I wondered if I'd parked differently, over a dip in the pavement. But no. The same thing happened over at 10Box. And in the garage at home. It takes a little more effort to hoist myself up onto the running board when getting in.

Anyhoo... I am relieved to have my T-Hoe back, in much better health than he was before.

These Elderlies Are Driving Me Crazy

Hick went to bed around 8:45 on Tuesday night. At 9:00, I heard his phone ringing. It was on the bathroom counter, and I was in the kitchen. I don't answer Hick's phone. I don't wake him if it rings. He'll answer it if he wants to. If it's family with a problem, they know my phone number. Sometimes Old Buddy calls Hick the night before, to say he won't be working the next day. If he doesn't get an answer, he leaves a text. I was not concerned.

At 10:00, I was sitting at the kitchen table with HIPPIE. I saw a humanoid shape in the window reflection, moving through the living room. Creepy! But weird things happen around here. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Nothing. I turned my attention back to HIPPIE. I almost jumped out of my skin when Hick came tromping through the kitchen. He was fully dressed, not in his tighty-whities as I had last seen him. I figured he must have gotten up to check his phone.

"What are you doing??? You scared me half to death!"

"I've gotta go to town. Somebody's locked out again."

"I thought you put a lock box there with a key!"

"I DID. But she says it doesn't work. It's stuck."

"Are you okay to drive? Are you still sleepy?"

"I'm okay. Be back in a bit."

Hick returned at 11:02. That's like the middle of the night for him!

"Did you figure out what's wrong with the key?"

"No. I just let her in with my key. She was waiting at the back door so I didn't have to go in the front. She only lives on the second floor. So I just unlocked her door and left. I'll look at it tomorrow."

"You really should be paid for getting out in the middle of the night, just because somebody can't remember their key!"

"Oh, I'll get paid. Not from THEM. I'll tell my boss I had to make a special trip to town."

Wednesday morning, Hick gave a few more details. It was the lady who's called him before. She goes out to smoke, and forgets her key. That's why he put in the lock box with a key inside! So he doesn't have to get out in the middle of the night.

"I know that key works! The exterminator has been using it. Apparently, they couldn't get the lock box open. That other gal who wanders around, helping people, was with her when she called. I gave them the number to open the lock box, but they said it didn't work. I thought they were talking about the key, not the box. It has four numbers. It's 0###. I can almost bet they were forgetting the zero first, and just putting in three numbers."

Anyhoo... maybe Hick will get a full $300 this month! To cover SilverRedO's gas.

Hick's Rumpus Gets Caught in the Wringer

Hick had a talk with the Better Business Bureau on Monday. All these years (about 7, I think) he's had his Storage Unit Stores, with nary a problem. Sure, there were sneak thieves with sticky fingers, caught on camera, who got away with pilfering. But as far as complaints, Hick always satisfied his customers. If merchandise was defective, Hick gave a full refund, or repaired the item, or offered a comparable replacement. Even if the damage looked like it was inflicted AFTER the purchase and out of Hick's sight. Hick has one big happy consumer base.

The BBB was NOT interested in Hick's business. It was the senior apartments. The job Hick does for less than $300 a week.

The squeaky wheel begging for grease was the guy who complained about his carpet not being cleaned. Even though it was. Even though Hick gave him the carpet cleaner and detergent so he could do it himself and see if he could get it cleaned to his satisfaction. You remember. The guy who was cussing Hick. The Bad Apple.

Anyhoo... Hick said the lady from the BBB was very nice. She said that Bad Apple had reported his dissatisfaction with his rug. Hick explained that the rug had been cleaned, but it's just an old rug. The apartments are old. He's replaced the rug in some of the apartments, but this one wasn't that bad. That now the organization has more money, from 16 apartments being rented rather than 4. And that they are making improvements as they can. That he had given the carpet cleaner and detergent to Bad Apple to use for himself.

Once the BBB Lady heard that, she said, "So you provided the carpet cleaner and the detergent to him?" Hick affirmed that he did. And that Bad Apple still has them. The BBB Lady thanked Hick for his information.

Hick says, "I'm not worried about it. They cain't do nothin' to ME. The lady seemed pretty satisfied that I had tried to solve the problem." 

Actually, Bad Apple had reported the Senior Center. Which is a separate entity, with separate funding, headed by one of Hick's female buddies, who knows nothing of the running of the apartments, other than what she hears from Hick.

Have I mentioned that I would prefer Hick to NOT HAVE this job? All it's done is chomp him on the rumpus. For less than $300 a month.

That Would Be Eating Like a Bird While You Eat the Bird

I've been thinking ahead to my Thanksgiving menu. Don't want to wait too late to do my shopping! All the good stuff will be gone. As usual, Hick wants ham. To me, ham is for Christmas. But Hick says he's never really liked turkey, unless he eats it hot, right out of the oven. Which I think means eating it as he slices it for the table. Nobody wants to see that!

The Pony is okay with ham OR turkey, because either will be used to make little sandwiches on Sister Schubert's Rolls. I like turkey. Dark meat and white meat. Hot or cold. Leftovers for days. But I'm not thrilled about going to the trouble to thaw and cook a turkey just for myself. One year we just had a turkey breast. But that's as much trouble as a regular turkey. Just not as heavy to put in and take out of the oven.

I have reached a solution! We will have a ham, and Cornish game hens! The Pony won't want a hen, because it has BONES in it! But Hick likes them. We used to have them quite a bit when the kids were young, eating kiddie food. Save A Lot sells Cornish game hens, you know. The frozen kind, from Tyson.

Anyhoo... I picked up four of them while out shopping yesterday. Once home, I was reading the label before putting them in the mini freezer in the laundry room. They are 22 oz. Cook at 350 for about an hour and 15 minutes. Much easier than a turkey!

Here's the thing: A SERVING IS 4 OUNCES! According to the label, heh, heh! Seriously. Even if you discount about half of that weight being bones, the folks who decree serving sizes think that THREE PEOPLE can eat a Cornish game hen!

I told this info to Hick, and he snorted. "Nobody does that! Everyone eats a whole Cornish hen. Remember when we went to the Dixie Stampede? In Branson? And they served the dinner during the show? It was Cornish hens. Everybody got their own!"

I do remember that indeed! It was all finger food. A Cornish hen, soup in a bowl with a handle, potato wedges, a mini corn on the cob, and an apple turnover for dessert. It was with HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and The (little future) Veteran. They were tweenagers at the time. Everybody ate all their food. Nobody was wrenching a Cornish hen into three servings!

Anyhoo... I'm sure there are people who might say, "Just give me a leg." Yeah, right! Psychos!

True, with all our side dishes, and the ham as well, we may not eat a whole Cornish hen at one sitting on Thanksgiving. But really. I think the whole bird is a normal serving.

A Flabbergasting Development Concerning T-Hoe's Health

Are you sitting down? If not, pull up a chair. A chaise lounge might be good. And a side table, for arranging your stiff shot of whiskey, smelling salts, and perhaps a home defibrillator. I, myself, am still giddy with the news, which I learned on Thursday.

HICK GOT T-HOE AN APPOINTMENT WITH MICK THE MECHANIC!

And it's on MONDAY! Which is today, as you are reading this!

[PAUSE]

There. I had to wait for all to regain consciousness before continuing. T-Hoe will have to stay overnight. He's that sick! So many things wrong. After all, T-Hoe is growing long in the tooth. He's 17 in car years. I don't know how that equates to human years. But I figure T-Hoe would qualify to live in a parking garage for seniors.

Tonight I'm going to give Hick a list of what needs to be checked out. Because he's HICK, you know, and will probably try to skate by with just an oil change and shocks. I know the electronic issue with the radio sometimes going off for five or twenty minutes, and the heat/AC stopping to blow normal outside air, and the seat heaters not working, and the backup beeper not working, and the tire sensors saying I have ZERO pounds of air in two tires, won't be addressed.

What I HOPE will be checked out would be the putt-putt sound when T-Hoe idles at stoplights, making me fear he is dying. [Hick himself admits that he doesn't recall T-Hoe ever having new spark plugs in all these 17 years.] And the instability of the front end, which has supposedly been "fixed" twice. [Hick says it's the stabilizer bar.] The shocks are definitely necessary, T-Hoe having been beaten within an inch of his lives all these years on a mile of potholed gravel road that includes Hick and Buddy's Badly Blacktopped Hill. [I'm not sure why Hick only mentioned REAR shocks. Don't they come on the front, too?] Also, the brakes are grabby, so something seems amiss there. [Hick swears he doesn't notice the brake problem, but his normal braking method is enough to make my head bob like a fake dog in the back window.] Oh, and of course I expect the oil to be changed!

The two times the stabilizer bar was "fixed," I enjoyed a firmness in steering that nearly made me weep! I'm hoping the shocks will stop me from getting seasick with the sailing I do after any little bump. Knowing T-Hoe's engine arrythmia has been fixed will make me more confident while idling. Brakes should give a smooth deceleration, not grab and let go like they're teasing you.

Oh, and I will also add that Hick broke this great news to me while handing me two bills on Thursday evening. The first for $353.28 for two new front tires for SilverRedO. And the second for $116.36, for the alignment of those two tires on SilverRedO. It seems like SilverRedO is always being pampered and groomed, with eyebrow-plucking, mani/pedis, chemical peels, massages, and the occasional Brazilian wax... while T-Hoe is the "before" version of Sandra Bullock as Gracie Lou Freebush in Miss Congeniality.

I have high hopes for T-Hoe's rejuvenation. But at least he'll be getting that oil change.

Hick, the King of Non Sequiturs

If a tree falls in Val's woods, does Hick hear a sound?

Last week, Hick was getting the groceries out of T-Hoe's rear, while I sat in the driver's seat, waiting to close the hatch and then the garage door. I was talking to him while he picked up the bags.

"Is that a new tree that fell down? Or just the other one that I'm noticing from a different angle? Step back and take a look at it."

"Yes. It's settling. We might end up having those people come who put foam under it."

What in the NOT-HEAVEN???

So... it was the same tree, just settling. But why would we want to put foam under it? What's wrong with a fallen tree settling to the ground in the woods? We're not going to walk under it. A more anticipated response might have been, "I'll let one of my buddies come cut it up for the wood."

Hick looked in at me as he walked past the passenger door. Must have noticed my confusion.

"What?"

"That's not at all what I was talking about! I'll tell you inside."

I realized Hick had been fixated on the concrete of the garage floor and the carport. There's a little bump there now on my side of the garage. About a 2-inch "step" down to the outside carport as I back out of the garage. Sometimes going in, the tires stop, and I have to gas it to get over the hump, and immediately brake so as not to crash through the front wall.

When I explained this miscommunication in the kitchen, Hick stepped outside to look at that tree. Yes, it was a NEW old tree that had fallen down in the past couple of days. Not the smaller fallen tree that is directly behind the house. He voiced no plan to do anything to it.

Asking Hick a question is like opening a box of chocolates...

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 3, Hicksplanations

When Hick strolled through the kitchen and said, "I guess I need to get a new battery for the generator," I was sure I knew the reason it hadn't started.

"Oh. So the generator didn't start because the battery was dead."

"No. It wouldn't start because it had bad gas."

"You just SAID that you need to get a new battery for it."

"I do."

"Then it was a dead battery, not bad gas!"

"Nooo. I couldn't get the generator to start. The battery was dead. So I pulled on the rope to start it. Like with a lawnmower. I couldn't pull it fast enough. Because of the bad gas. So I hooked it up to the Acadia to jump the battery. FINALLY it caught on, and started."

"Yeah... once you jumped the battery, the generator started. So if it had a good battery, it would have started. The reason it didn't work was the BATTERY!"

"No, Val. You cain't understand nothin'! It was the BAD GAS! There was gas left in the generator from the last time I used it. I could smell that it wasn't right when I got the generator out. The gas gets thicker. It won't go through the carburetor. It turns into something like varnish. That's why I couldn't pull the rope to make the motor spin. The gas was bad. Too thick."

"But the generator DID start, once you jumped the BATTERY!"

"Yeah."

"So the problem keeping the generator from starting was a DEAD BATTERY!"

"No. It was BAD GAS. I'm gonna get some additive to put in there this time. To keep the gas from going bad."

"AND you're getting a new battery."

"Yeah."

Okay. This was certainly going nowhere. I still say the battery was the problem. IF the battery had worked, the generator would have started, despite the bad gas. After all, it DID start when the battery was jumped, even though the "bad gas" was still in it. That's my explanation, and it makes sense to me. The Hicksplanation does not.

In other not-as-confusing news, Hick has a theory on what caused our power outage. He agrees that it likely had something to do with the cable man in the lift stringing cable on the electric pole.

"They got it fixed quick, once a crew showed up. There was nobody there when I came back with the gas, but a half hour later it was fixed. That had to be something simple. Like a breaker, or a transformer. They could have just reset the breaker, or put on a new transformer. They always have a good stock of them."

"So the cable man would know he messed up?"

"Oh, yeah. It would cause a big spark and a noise. Somebody could have even been killed!"

"Well, I doubt that, since there was no activity around there, and they were still stringing cable when you first came home."

"Probably not."

"So what could he have done to cause it?"

"Maybe nothing. The wind could have blown his cable into the live electric wire. That would have shorted out the transformer, or tripped the breaker. Maybe it was something he couldn't have avoided."

"Still, I'm sure they were the cause."

"Me too. When I came back with the gas, I could see that everybody had lights until I got to that pole on the sharp curve. From there home, it was all dark."

"He must have done it right before I got there! He was still at the same pole when I went by. Can they get sued by the electric company for damaging their equipment? Did they have permission to put their cable on the poles?"

"I guess they could. But there's usually an agreement. They all use the electric poles. The telephone company, and the cable companies. They lease the poles."

"Well. We always called them TELEPHONE POLES! Because my dad worked for the telephone company..."

That said, I know the electric company also has their own poles, because other relatives work for them, and have talked about having to bring in a new pole when a car knocks one down. 

Anyhoo... I can't agree with Hick about the reason for the generator not working. But I can't disagree with Hick about the reason for the electricity being off. One out of two is really good, when it comes to Hicksplanations.

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 2, Solutions

We left Val hobbling around her garage (TWICE) over uneven bricks and lumpy gravel, to gain access to her electricless hillbilly mansion.

I had no doubt that my power outage had been caused by those cable company linemen! That's the only explanation. The winds were much slower than the previous two days, when we hadn't had an issue. Only gusting to 14 mph, rather than 30. You can't convince me that our electricity was randomly disconnected while a man in a lift was mucking about with wires.

Once inside, I checked my phone to see what that email was about. It was from the electric company! Saying a potential outage had been reported in my area, with a restore time of 6:45 p.m. The time of the email was 3:48. It had been sent in the middle of my 10-minute drive home. I'm sure that cable guy had dis-electrified me just as I was leaving town. Nothing to do now but gather up flashlights and wait for Hick to get home to start the generator. It was going on 4:30 by the time I got things situated. I had about a half hour of daylight left.

I settled down at the kitchen table with my scratchers. Trying to stay out of trouble and not flush or run water or open FRIG II. I had washed my hands in oatmeal water! Meaning I had used the water I'd run into my breakfast oatmeal bowl to soak in the sink.

Hick was home shortly before 5:00. He immediately went out to get the generator going. I could hear the one running at the neighbors, but no sound from ours. That's not true. I could hear puttering. Sputtering. Light ceased coming in through the miniblinds. I turned on a flashlight. Scratching lottery like the pioneers had to do, heh, heh! FINALLY, after 20-30 minutes, I heard the generator start, and the lights came on. Hick came inside.

"I thought I'd never get it going. Now I have to go to town for gas. I don't have enough to run it long."

Off Hick went. At least I had lights and flushes. Meantime, I had another email from the electric company, saying that the cause of the outage was equipment damage, and they couldn't provide a restore time at this moment.

When Hick returned, he said there were no crews working on the electric lines. What with it being Veteran's Day, perhaps the electric company had trouble getting an on-call crew that was nearby. Hick said that I could use a burner, but not the oven. So I fried him a couple hot dogs for his supper. 

I continued scratching, and Hick watched TV. Of course I was freezing to death, though Hick said it wasn't even cold outside. It sure LOOKED cold! Had only reached the 50s, and supposed to go below freezing overnight. My hands were like ice. I could hardly grip my lucky quarter. I have no idea of the actual temperature inside. It might have only dipped a degree or two below the 70 it had been set on. I just knew that right now I had no heat, and I was FREEZING!

At 6:30, Hick went out on the front porch to see if our dusk-to-dawn light had come back on. IT HAD! At the same time, I got another email from the electric company, saying our power had been restored. You don't know how ecstatic that made me. Not only would I have heat now, but I COULD USE THE OVEN TO WARM UP MY BONUS REUBEN!!!

Hick went out to shut off the generator. I was standing at the kitchen counter. He said, "Stay right there, just like that! It's going to get really dark." So I did. Then Hick came back in with the flashlight, to go to the breaker box and hook us back up to regular electricity. Oh, and on the way through the kitchen, he said,

"I guess I need to get a new battery for the generator."

Which resulted in a whole new annoyance, one of Hick's "Who's on  First" explanations. Or as I've come to think of them: Hicksplanations.

Still, it's times like these that I'm glad I have a generator. AND a Hick.

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 1, Obstacles

You may recall that Val doesn't ask for much. Just a reliable vehicle to drive to town every day for scratchers, a couple hours in the afternoon/evening to scratch, and a Reuben once a month. Nothing extravagant. No jewels or fancy clothes or designer shoes or lavish vacations. She's a simple gal, our Val.

Tuesday started off well enough, though I was a bit worried about Hick on his trip down into the bootheel to pick up his FREE lawnmower ramp on his trailer. Temps were up into the low 50s by the time I left for town, so that was an improvement.

I had gone about a mile on our county blacktop road when I encountered my first obstacle. A white utility truck parked on my side of the road, blocking my lane. A man was in a lift, fiddling with a wire that ran across the road. There were two or three other white trucks parked in the field and driveway. I was able to squeeze T-Hoe past the lift truck, feeling like I had two tires on a tightrope where the road dropped off. At least I could see that no traffic was coming along that stretch. I immediately thought of Hick, returning with his trailer. And then the school bus, which was due in about 10 minutes. Odd that the workers did not have a flag man, or cones set up.

I couldn't call the school bus, but I DID call Hick. Just as soon as I got over the low water bridge and back up the hill where I had phone service.

"Hey, where are you? There are electric trucks working here by the Best Compound (our name for that property, with its row of mailboxes and several families.) You might want to come in the other way, because I don't think you can get your trailer past them without running it off the road."

Hick was almost back to the area of his SUS2.5, and had a couple other errands. He thought they might be gone by the time he came home. I said I'd update him on my return. Which took longer than expected, with my other obstacles.

A red truck was parked in my rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store, also taking up half the FREE AIR space. It had handicap plates, so just beat me to it. Which didn't make my walk inside any shorter. 

When I left by the back alley, a local can opener factory had just let out, so the road was blocked from traffic backed up from the stoplight. 

I finally got the liquor store where I wanted to buy crossword scratchers, but I saw a little girl holding the door open with her back, a tray of something she was selling draped across her forearms. No thank you! I don't appreciate such strong-arm tactics. That store is not a place for a tweenage girl!

I left the Liquor Store to buy my tickets at the 10Box machine instead. Where all the handicap spaces were taken. At least a space at the far left end was open, so I could park with assurance that T-Hoe's door would not be blocked when I returned.

After these five uncommon deterrents to my simple scratcher-buying trip, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed home with my tickets. It's only a 10-minute drive. I heard my phone, but it was an email, not a text, so I figured it was nothing important and didn't check. From the hill above the bridge, I could see that the utility trucks were gone. Once I got back over the bridge, I called Hick to let him know the coast was clear.

"Hey, the electric trucks are gone now. You can get by."

No sooner had I disconnected than I rounded a curve and saw a white lift truck parked in my lane! There was more room to get around here, because of somebody else's driveway. I rounded a sharp curve, and saw ANOTHER white truck parked on my side. And a yellow little gadget that looked like a wood splitter. Huh. I went around, and saw that the side of the truck said SPECTRUM. That's the local cable company. I guess maybe it had been them all along, and not the electric company.

I figured Hick could get by them with his trailer. So I didn't try to call back, since I was approaching our mailbox area down by the creek, where I lose phone service again. I was home within five minutes. It was now almost 4:00. My little dog Jack ran around back of the garage to greet me. I pushed the garage door opener.

IT DIDN'T OPEN!

That's really nothing new. For YEARS I have been telling Hick that I need a battery, or a new opener. I'm sure that comes as a surprise to you, heh, heh. Sometimes it takes 3 or 4 tries. Or 7 or 8. I crept closer and closer. Tapped that opener. Turned it in all directions. NOTHING! Why can't I have nice things? The other door, for A-Cad, always opens with the first push of the opener.

Though you may know me as a chaste dainty lady, Val has the ability to express herself like an outraged sailor. I made use of that skill then. Poor little Jack. I had to explain that it was HICK who was the subject of my X-rated rant, and not he.

The perfect end to a perfect hour, right? I stomped across the carport, over the rutted gravel, under the carport where SilverRedO is usually parked, with the three dog holes dug into the gravel, across the uneven Hick-laid-brick sidewalk, to the people door of the garage. Where I reached in and pushed the doorbell-like button to open my garage door.

NOTHING HAPPENED!

Well, great. The whole garage door must be bad. But wait! The lights weren't lit up in the doorbell-like buttons. 

VAL WAS POWERLESS! To be continued...

Not Just a Surprise, But a Bonus

I'm so happy that Hick discovered REUBENS for lunch Monday at the Senior Center! He brought home two, but said he was still full from eating the same meal for lunch.

Broccoli Cheddar Soup

Reuben Sandwich

Slaw

Hilda's Brownies

Hick opened them up to check on the soup for me. Once again, whoever bagged those take-out meals tied the white plastic bags in knots, like a giant boa constrictor might try to escape. Hick used his pocket knife to slash through them. He reported that it was Broccoli Soup. This was before he handed me the menu for this month, so I could read it for myself. I asked if it was good, and Hick replied that HE had vegetable beef soup, and it was great. Huh. I guess "the pet" gets special treatment!

The sandwich looked great. None of the slaw leaked out, even though Hick was flipping those bags around all willy-nilly as he came through the kitchen door. Like one of those flag people on an aircraft carrier. The soup and dessert containers were stacked on top of the sandwich/slaw containers. It's a wonder there wasn't a biononhazardous spill! The slaw was actually not as liquidy as it appears.

Hick said he didn't want the Broccoli Cheddar Soup. It wasn't bad. The soup was thinner than it appears here. I had three tiny florets of broccoli in mine. The amount was a half cup, in that cardboard container, which I heated in the microwave.

The brownie looked pretty good, but there wasn't an edge this time. I told Hick he could have mine. For being "not hungry," Hick sure was able to eat two brownies! I didn't think he would have them both at one sitting.

Anyhoo... here's the BONUS part! Hick said he was okay with me having his Reuben! Since he didn't like the "creamy" slaw anyway. So I got out of making Hick's supper Monday night, AND I had a second Reuben meal for myself on Tuesday. Except those Reubens are quite filling, and I didn't really want two whole ones, having planned on cutting mine in half anyway, to have over two suppers.

Here's my solution. I took the innards out of the second sandwich, and put them on the first one. I cut it in half, to have over two nights. Then I froze the other two slices of marble rye bread, for when I want to make a sandwich. I can never find that bread in the stores. The half-sandwich with double meat was just right.

I'm looking forward to Tuesday night's supper! Me and my half-Reuben, with our guests Broccoli Cheddar Soup and Slaw.

Good Thing Hick Didn't Pick Monday to Go to the Ends of Missouri to Fetch His FREE Ramp

Monday morning dawned bright and cold. Actually, it wasn't full dawn when Hick left home, after knocking the ice out of the dog dish and filling it with water. Our first hard freeze.

"It's supposed to be really cold today. And the wind!"

"I'm not worried. We have heat in the flip house."

"I just meant on the way. But it's supposed to warm into the 60s later this week. Oh, and you need to get a menu from the Senior Center. I can't tell you what your lunch is today. The old menu stopped on Friday."

"They're gonna be closed tomorrow. Veteran's Day."

"So get a menu today! I need to know when they're having Reubens. I hope it's not TODAY!!!"

"I'm pretty sure it won't be today, Val. But I'll try and remember a menu."

It's now 11:30 a.m. on Monday as I'm typing. An hour ago, I got a text from Hick:

"Reuben today I'm bringing two home"

Well, that was a close one! If we missed it, that means another month until a Reuben!!! I really hope Hick DOES bring home the Reubens. Usually, he tells me he has to call ahead and order them. I guess maybe he went by early, to do something at the apartments, and found out. Because normally, lunch isn't served until 11:00.

This might be the most exciting thing to happen to me all month! A surprise Reuben! I am wondering what dastardly shenanigans The Universe and Even Steven might have up their respective sleeves...

Hick's Logistics Needed to Acquire FREE Stuff

Hick's life is a tangled web of buddy relationships. All that mutual backscratching, hand-washing (AS IF!), and bread-buttering must fit into a complicated pattern that could warp the space-time continuum.

Every time Hick's phone rings in the evening, I suspect it's one of the elderlies. I turn off the music playing on HIPPIE to get a gist of one end of the conversation. Like on Monday.

"Hello? [Silence] No. No, that's okay. It's fine. You can do that. Not a problem. Okay. Talk to you later."

"Was that one of your old people wanting something?"

"No. It was my buddy who cleaned out our gutters. He wanted to borrow my trailer, so I said okay."

"That's a lot better payment than the $100 you gave him for balancing on our metal roof!"

I don't mind Hick loaning out "his" trailer. Even though somebody once borrowed his previous trailer, and it was involved in a high-speed accident and totaled, and the driver (plus the borrower) ran from the scene, leading to a knock on the door at 11:30 p.m. for Hick to be questioned by law enforcement officials concerning property damage to utility company structures. They had traced Hick through the license plate, which did not have the courtesy to fall off or be damaged as severely as the trailer.

Anyhoo... on Tuesday evening, Hick got another call.

"Hello? Yeah. Sure. No. I'll have to take my trailer. My truck don't have an 8-foot bed. It's only 6 foot. I can pick you up Thursday. Yeah. You can ride along with me. It's a long drive. Down past Casino Town. Near the bootheel. Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Well, I figure that wasn't one of your old ladies. Unless now they want you moving furniture for them."

"No. It was my buddy that sold us the $5,000 house. He's got a steel ramp I can have. From his father-in-law who used to have a lawnmower business. I just have to pick it up. It's like a ramp I can use for loading a lawnmower."

"You can't do it Thursday! That's when you're grilling for The Pony. You'll be all tired and cranky by the time you get back."

"No I won't. But Tuesday might be a better day for it. I'll call him back tomorrow."

"Wait a minute! His FATHER-IN-LAW? How is THAT possible? Your buddy is older than you! He was your teacher! How is the guy still alive?"

"He's in a nursing home, Val. He's 99 years old!"

"And he just now decided he doesn't need his lawnmower ramp?"

"No. The family has been clearing things out for a while now." 

"How can he not know where the guy lived? It's his FATHER-IN-LAW! Why were you telling him where the town was?"

"I don't know the name of the town. But it's almost to Arkansas. It'll take a couple hours just to get there."

That still didn't answer my question, but as conversations with Hick go, I was okay with not pursuing the illogical interaction.

Anyhoo... I was also wondering if Hick would have his trailer back in time. Turns out he DID, because on Wednesday evening, he said he was going over to the BARn to hook up his trailer for the next day.

"Wait. I thought you changed your plan from Thursday to Tuesday to pick up the ramp."

"I did. But first, I have to patch my trailer. Some of the wood is rotted out. So I'm taking it over to the flip house to use the scraps we had left of the lumber. That's easier than loading the wood and bringing it out here."

Well. I don't consider driving a trailer to town easier than loading scrap boards in the back of a truck, but I'm not a handyman. Hick left home at 6:00 on Thursday morning. At 7:45, I saw SilverRedO drive through the front yard. Hick came running in through the front door.

"Whew! I gotta use the bathroom!"

I don't know why he feels the need to make these grandiose announcements. But when he came out, I had more questions.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going to fix your trailer."

"It's fixed! I already done it, as soon as I got there. It's ready now."

Here it is Monday. Tomorrow, Hick is off to get his FREE ramp. Which only cost him a couple tanks of gas, some scrap lumber, and enough hours of time to delay an oil change for T-Hoe.

Val the Enabler

Hick has a junk problem. Oh, it's no problem to HIM! But he has a two-story BARn, and a Freight Container Garage, filled with things he might one day use. 

I should have known there was really no reason for building the Freight Container Garage, other than Hick had already packed the BARn to the gills with his "treasures." In fact, the very week the FCG was complete, Hick bought 18 storage units, and proceeded to stash the contents in there. It has a car lift installed that has never been used. Because there's too much stuff around it. To be fair, Hick has sold off some of those contents by now. And given some away to other flea market store buddies. There's still plenty left. 

Hick's quest for FREE stuff continues. Some of it's good. Like the bathtub and shower surround that he picked up along our county blacktop road, and used for the bathroom in HOS House. And the bathroom sink he stopped to get on a different county blacktop highway on our way home from a casino trip. I think maybe it went into the Beauty Shop.

Ever since we were married, living in my $17,000 house in town, Hick has been on the lookout for stuff. I even started helping him! On the way home from the bank one day, I saw a strip of something on the road. We were putting new siding on an addition to my house. It looked like the trim stuff. And it was white. Same color! Yes. I stopped my 1980 cherry-red Toyota Corolla in the middle of the road, and got out to pick it up. I had a Not-Heaven of a time getting that long piece of vinyl to fit in the back seat. When Hick got home, he took a look.

"Oh. That's J-channel. Yeah, I could have used it. But it's been run over too many times."

It's the thought that counts, right?

During our Errand Day on Thursday, The Pony and I were coming back from the bank. And at the same intersection where I had long-ago found the J-channel, I saw something in front of the only house in that area.

"Pony! Do you see that? It's a headboard! Solid wood. Look, it has a design carved into it. I wonder if Dad might want that. To sell in his shop, or put in one of the flip houses, like staging."

When we stopped at the Save A Lot a few yards down the street, I called Hick while The Pony ran in to pick up a couple things.

"It's out here by the old donut shop. Across from that one bank. On the same side of the road as where Walmart used to be. It's solid wood. Looks like it's for a full-size bed."

"Okay. I might take a look at it when I'm out that way."

Hick decided he didn't want it, but he called Old Buddy, in case he wanted it to sell in his own shop. That's what buddies do for each other. They're enablers, just like Val...

November Grillin'

The gales of November have not stopped Hick from grilling. Thevictorians are not the Edmund Fitzerald! In fact, there are no current gales. The weather was clear and in the 70s on Thursday. The Pony had not been out for lunch in a while, so we planned a weekday BBQ. That was for Hick, who doesn't like missing even an hour of reduced daylight behind the counter of his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Deer season is coming, and the sportsmen are spending. So we didn't want to take him away from his shop on the weekend.

Nothing fancy this time. The Pony volunteered to make special Mac N Cheese. Except the box mix was forgotten at home, along with the special spices and ingredients! Luckily, I had a simple box of it in the pantry, and some minced garlic in FRIG II. Though not much else except a few different cheeses to add to the powder in the box.

Also on the menu were the tater-tot-like potato "coins" that are found in the freezer at 10Box. And I baked up some potatoes and onions for Hick. He likes them wrapped in foil and put on the grill, but that is harder for me to get ready than just putting them in the oven. Sliced potatoes layered with sliced onions and butter. I had a bit of bacon left over from making green beans last week, so it went in, too.

Hick must have been off his feed. That's all he had! To be fair, he DID have lunch at the Senior Center, which was spaghetti and garlic bread and German Chocolate Cake. So maybe he was still full.

The Pony strapped on the old feedbag with a couple of bratwursts. They had the regular kind this time, and beer brats. Hick did not keep them separate on the grill, so you never know that you're going to get. I guess supper time at Thevictorian household is like a box of bratwursts, heh, heh. I can tell that was The Pony's plate because of the ketchup. It was NOT for the potato coins... The Pony ate salad as an appetizer this time, while we were getting the side dishes ready. That's because The Pony usually gets too full while eating salad with the meal, and leaves some behind for me to finish the next day.

I chose a nice fat charred hot dog instead of a bratwurst. As usual, my most-favored part of the grilling was the salad. I love a good BIG salad! I used the last of the home-grown tomatoes that had been provided by Hick's buddy. In fact, I was unable to finish my salad this time! The mustard is for the hot dog, and the ketchup is for the potatoes. I normally just put the mustard on the hot dog, but The Pony was gathering my condiments, and treated it like the ketchup. Which is definitely for the potato coins. Shasta Zero Sugar with fresh-squeezed lemon for the beverage. High-class this time! In a plastic glass rather than the can, heh, heh.

Once again, I forgot the show the desserts. It was a big cookie, chocolate chip, bought at Country Mart. And a choice of a chocolate-coated ice cream bar, two kinds of Drumsticks, and Cherry Chocolate Chunk ice cream in a regular or waffle cone. The Pony and Hick chose the Drumstick with caramel, and I had an ice cream bar. 

The Pony took home a bunch of leftovers, and Hick and I will be feeding on the rest for several nights. Can't beat a good November cookout!

Val Saves Herself From Slow Torture on Hick's Wait List

T-Hoe is still thirsting for an oil change. I would bet that you are shocked, but I'm not the kind of Val to throw my money away on gambling, heh, heh. 

Good thing I am observant of my surroundings while out and about in town. Wednesday at the Backroads Casey's, I cheated over quite a bit in my rightful handicap space. It's the last space at the right end of the building. I wasn't affecting anybody else's parking. The car I parked beside was in no-man's-land. Not IN the next space. Just taking up two halves of different spaces. I figured that by moving over a bit, if that car left, the next one would hopefully park inside the lines, and I'd still have plenty of room to get T-Hoe's door open all the way.

A dude came out of the store with a soda and slice of pizza as I was getting out. I tried not to look at him, though he did not give me the same courtesy. He stood next to the passenger door of the space-hogging car, having been locked out by his driver, who was still inside the store.

What's THIS??? As I was putting my foot down, I saw an implement of T-Hoe destruction lying in wait! We can't have that! No need for T-Hoe to start limping like Val!

I didn't take a picture right there. I didn't want That Dude to start twirling his crazy temple finger. So I picked up the evidence. Not for a picture, you big sillies! To get it off the parking lot! I know how these things work. I've had a dang BOLT flatten my tire before. Not even pointy like this screw. As the tire rolls back over it, the head flips the pointy end up, and it catches in the tire, and stabs it as the tire continues to roll!

This one was only about two inches long, unlike the bolt, which was about four. I showed Hick when we were on a commercial during Survivor. He dropped it in his empty Diet Mountain Dew bottle. 

We all know that if T-Hoe gets a flat tire, I will be waiting for a while before it's fixed. At least I spotted this evil weapon. Maybe I should start carrying a metal detector. And de-sensitize myself to the crazy temple twirly finger.

Hick Follows Through

Hick and Old Buddy continued painting the back porch area of Bargain House on Wednesday morning. When the ceiling of the porch gets a nice coat (or two) of white paint, it will make a nice little sitting area for BBQing, or watching kids or pets play in the back yard.

Now the house is all one (close enough) color. I think the white door itself will draw enough "attention" to that part when people drive by to look at it. That, and the little window.

Of course the siding will get a good scrubbing with Hick's power washer. He rarely has a chance to use that gadget, so it's not something he'll forget. I'm going to suggest that he does it soon, because winter is coming on, and nobody wants frozen vinyl siding! It might get brittle. 

With only the kitchen left to do inside, Bargain House might be going on the market during the winter months. So let's get the outside ready NOW! And finish up the inside when it's cold outside.

Hick Gets VAL-Peer-Pressurized

I am thrilled to report that Hick has come to his senses! Mark the calendar! After so many attempts to nag him into submission sway his opinion reason by contrasting positives and negatives... HICK HAS SEEN THE LIGHT! He sent me a text on Tuesday morning. A picture from  Bargain House:

"Color we are painting the side." It's a bit subdued here, with Old Buddy wielding the paintbrush, in the shadow of the rising sun.

I AM THRILLED!

Here's what it looked like back in February, when Hick first enclosed part of the porch and put in the back door:

Now the porch wood will match the color of the siding. And you can see, if you compare the two pictures, that Hick has upgraded the electrical entrance with a new box. That had to be done.

Right before he left home Tuesday morning, Hick had said, offhandedly, "I'm painting the back porch of the house yellow. I took a piece of siding and had them mix the paint to match."

I almost fainted! That was too good to be true. I wasn't counting any chickens until it actually happened. But then I got the picture. Evidence! It looks like a pretty good match.

 

"Looks great! Can you use it to paint the ceiling of the porch, too?"

"I think I want to paint it white."

TWO VICTORIES! Matching paint for the addition, and also paint for the porch ceiling. Hick thinks the back wall of the house will also be white, to match the porch.

Why did Hick change his mind? He was shocked to hear that "my people" thought the plain wood (or wood siding as he calls it) looked terrible! Hick said all his buddies think the wood looks good. Well. Does he really expect his buddies, who depend on him for assorted advice and trades and business, would be completely honest about their opinion?

Thanks so much for the unanimous opinion of the plain wood!

A Rib-Stickin' Meal for the Cool Weather

Sunday was actually Day 2 for this meal. Hick ain't playin' when he fills a plate. This time he required me to break out the picnic/school lunch tray, so he'd have room for all his selections. In fact, he even turned down a home-grown tomato from a buddy, because "I think this is probably plenty." No need to take up valuable stomach real estate with a vegetable, heh, heh! Yes, I gave Hick a fork, but I think he was licking it after forking his pork chop onto the tray.

You can't tell from this photo, but the pork chops were thick, and quite juicy. Even Hick agreed that they turned out better with Shake N Bake than when he grilled the others on GassyG Jr. Hick loves Stove Top Stuffing. The biscuits are the store-brand peel-apart flaky layers kind. The green beans and potatoes were from a can, but I simmered them for two hours with bacon and a diced onion. 

I have never pretended to be a gourmet chef. I dish up reasonably tasty food, and I can make it healthier if the eater is receptive to such a concept. We are simple people. Much like Hick can turn an old shack into a safe, livable house with no frills, I can plate a meal that will satisfy hunger and not make you sick. We are simple, basic people, living a simple, basic life.

I preferred a fresh tomato to the stuffing. And I don't like my food juices running all over the place. I don't mind if they mix, or the foods touch each other. That's not my pecadillo. I just don't like sloppy food.

Thursday, we're having a cookout with The Pony. Not sure what I'll feed Hick between now and then. He has leftover green beans and stuffing and biscuits. I think he'll get Buffalo chicken chunks for his main course. Too spicy for me. I'll rummage through the pantry and freezer. I think I have some sardines in mustard sauce hiding there. Hick is not a fan. I need to start saving room for the cookout. And I don't mean in the pantry or freezer.

A Loss of Savings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do other people have cats?"

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

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

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

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

A Halloween Tradition

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

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

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

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

What is this delectable seasonal concoction that Hick raves about?

PAYDAY MIX! 

All it takes it two ingredients...

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

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

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

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

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

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