It Just Ain't a Reuben

Last week, we had lunch with my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel. It's something we usually do just before Christmas, to exchange gifts and Chex Mix and homemade chocolate covered cherries. This year, the schedule was tight, and we didn't get together until after Christmas. In past years, we went to Mabel's beautiful house, but lately we've just been meeting at a restaurant in her town, because of my knees not liking to get in and out of a car multiple times.

We meet at 11:00, because Hick likes to have breakfast for lunch.

This was two eggs, hash browns, bacon, and biscuits and gravy. Hick heartily enjoyed it.

Mabel loves the burgers. She contemplates something else, but goes with her favorite.

That's the basic burger, with the fixin's on the side. In the background is Mr. Mabel, who chose chicken strips and fries for both his sides. 

I was in a quandary. I like the chicken quesadillas. And the burgers. And the pretzel sticks with burnt end mustard sauce. And the grilled chicken sandwich. I'd thought about having a pork sandwich. Not the BBQ pulled pork, but the pounded-out fried patty kind of pork. But then I learned that the special that day was BBQ pork steak, with two sides. Which meant I could have fries AND slaw. So that's what I chose.

The slaw was delicous, and plentiful. The fries are always good. Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside. At first bite, the pork steak was good. I even declared that it was tasty. But upon subsequent sampling, it was not what I had anticipated. Rather than a nice fatty juicy pork steak, such as we grill at home... this was more akin to a pork CHOP. The meat was tender enough, but more dry. Well, the meat that I could access!

We chatted and caught up with happenings and not much gossip this time. Hick ate his entire plate, but the other three of us asked for take-out containers. Of course I finished my slaw, but took some of the pork steak home, along with a few fries. I wasn't so full that I couldn't continue, but I don't like eating once everybody else is done.

When I got out my leftovers for supper, I was further dissatisfied with my BBQ pork steak.

It was mostly BONE! I buy pork steaks for grilling. Some have the big bone, some have a small bone, and some have no bone. I told Hick, I'm sure that's the reason for the "special." They serve the good pork steaks on other days, to people who order it. But on the day for the special, they get rid of the bony pieces. That's my theory, and I'm stickin' to it! I won't order this special again.

Meanwhile, today as I type this, it is REUBEN DAY at the Senior Center. Hick is gone on a monthly buying trip for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Even though he's had the January menu since December, he had to pick this specific day of the month to buy his goods. 

NO REUBEN FOR VAL!

That's a shame.

Hick's Harem Wrap-Ups

Hick went back to the senior apartments on Monday. No lunch that day, as it was MLK day and they weren't open. The heat-seeking elderly was home. Hick investigated, and found that her heat was indeed not working! 

"Didn't that make you feel bad? That you didn't believe her?"

"Yeah, a little. But she was fine."

"Did you tell her you came by on Saturday, but she wasn't home?"

"No. But her living room and kitchen heat was working. It was the bathroom and bedroom that didn't. The heater had shorted out. I guess it was when she turned up the one in the bathroom. It's baseboard heat. It might have just been a fuse, but I didn't have time to check that, because I got a call about the guy coming for our own heat pump, and had to leave. 

Anyway, I just disconnected her bathroom unit, and I'll get her a new one. The bedroom will work now that the bathroom is off. So she has heat. She won't freeze.

While I was there, some of the others came to talk to me. Dog Lady saw me first, and said, 'Oh, no. Am I in trouble?' I told her no, I was there for something else. She said everything is fine now with her and Imbiber. They squashed their problem. The police came when she called them. He looked at Imbiber, who's real little and spindly, with a walker. And he looked at Dog Lady, who's bigger and kind of stout. Like, 'Why are YOU scared of HER?' He talked to them both, and made them apologize, and that's it. I told her it's just like I always tell everybody there: you have to learn to get along, or find somewhere else to live. She agreed.

Another old lady was there, too. She's really sweet. She said, 'Oh, there you are. You haven't been here in a week! I was worried about you. I'm so glad you're okay.' And she hugged me as I was leaving. Then on the way home, she called me. She said, 'I'm so sorry for hugging you. I know I shouldn't have done that, but I was just so happy to see that you were okay.' I told her it's fine. She can hug me if she wants to. I'm not mad."

Darn that Hick and his elderlies! They shouldn't make me tear up like this...

Once Again, Hick's Harem Beckons

Friday evening, Hick's phone rang. Once again, it was just as he sat down with his supper.

I could hear Hick's part of the conversation from the kitchen.

"Huh. Are you sure? It should be working. Turn it all the way up."

Then nothing. I didn't hear a goodbye. I thought Hick might be waiting for somebody to "turn it all the way up," and report the result. My first thought was that it might be The Pony, about a problem with his furnace. We were expecting single digit temps overnight for Saturday and Sunday. My second thought was that it might be The Veteran, who sometimes calls Hick while working on his truck.

Ten minutes went by, and I could no longer contain my inner Gladys Kravitz. 

"Who's that? What's that phone call about?"

"Just one of the crazy ladies from the apartments. She said her heater don't work. I know it works! I was just there on Wednesday, checking ALL of the heaters, in every apartment. They all worked. Including hers. I set them on 70, but apparently she turned hers down to 60. And now she say's it don't work! It's warmer in them apartments than 60. That's why it's not running. I told her to turn it up. I ain't heard nothin' back, so I guess it worked."

"Are you going to check on it? It's supposed to get REALLY cold!"

"I'll go by there tomorrow afternoon and make sure. But it was working fine when I tried it two days ago. She ain't gonna freeze. It's a second floor apartment. The ones above and below her have heat."

It's not that Hick is uncaring. Or is not performing the duties of his less-than-$300-a-month job. He had tested the heaters, and made sure they all worked. He was not going back to town Friday night to check on this one. He DID go on Saturday afternoon.

"She wasn't there. Nobody home."

"Huh. Maybe she doesn't have heat, and had to go stay somewhere warm!"

"I don't know where she was. But she ain't called back. I'm guessing it worked fine when she turned it up. If not, I guess she'll call me again."

At least this time it wasn't a fracas for Hick to break up. No police, unless that old gal called them to report Hick! He still hasn't heard anything about the Dog Lady and her nemesis. Which may be a good thing.

Hick, the Bi-Wheeler Dealer

Hick went back to the city last week, seeking more merchandise from the place he bought his new used trailer. For which he has yet to receive one red cent, but whatcha gonna do? Can't get blood from an old turnip. 

Anyhoo... this is a lady who is selling off stuff from her dead husband. She has a lot of things like old tools that interest Hick. And some things he usually doesn't seek out.

"She had two bicycles. One of 'em, I could lift with one hand! I couldn't believe how light it was. Some kind of 10-speed. It had really skinny tires. She thinks her husband paid $800 for it. I don't know how long ago that was. And she had another one she thinks he paid $300 for. It was a Mongoose, I think. She said she'd take $100 for the both of them."

"Well, I guess that's a good deal, if you have somebody who wants a bicycle. Walmart sells bicycles. I don't know if your customers want something like that."

"I figure that even if I can get $300 from the both of them, I've tripled my money."

Always the businessman. Hick might need another storage locker.

___________________________________________________________________

UPDATE:

Sunday morning, Hick said he has not yet bought the bicycles. And that lady called him on Saturday, and said she's been looking up the prices online.

"So she might not sell them to me for $100. I'll have to see what she says. She had also asked me about some of her cast iron skillets, and I said they were worth about $30 each. She said she looked them up, and they're somewhere between $20-$70. Well. So is $30. People get to looking this stuff up, but they have no idea what somebody will actually pay for them around here."

I guess this is what Hick gets for honestly telling that lady what her stuff is worth. He needs to smarten up. Not be so eager to be the nice guy. Just offer her a price, take it or leave it.

____________________________________________________________________

Hick's Harem Hijinks

Hick had just sat down with a bowl of pasta shells and a breadstick on Thursday evening when his phone rang. I could hear the ranting while Hick held it to his ear. Maybe it was just that loud, or maybe the sound flowed through Hick's head and came out his other ear...

It was one of the elderlies from the senior apartments. She started out asking if Hick had a minute to talk. 

"Well, I'm home, and I just sat down with my supper--"

I suppose that had just been a rhetorical question, because elderly Dog Lady cut off Hick's answer, and kept on harping. She was going so fast that I wasn't catching everything, and I took that time to change out of my town clothes. When I came back, Hick was saying

"I really can't do anything about that. Other than talk to her. Call the police."

Then some more hyper harping.

"Yes. That's a threat. Call the police, and they'll deal with it."

Dog Lady said, "Call the police? I'm doing that right now!" Hung up. No goodbye.

According to Hick, Dog Lady is the one who has the little dog, with a doctor's note that it's a service dog. And that she doesn't always take it outside, and sometimes it pees in the building. He's mentioned this issue to her before. The other residents don't like her because they think she gets special treatment for being allowed to have a pet. The elderly she was complaining about drinks all the time. Neither of them are the ones who "started the fire" a few weeks ago.

Anyhoo... according to Hick, Dog Lady said that Imbiber is always causing trouble, and told her, "I'm gonna kick your ass, and I'm gonna kill your dog!"

Which do, indeed, sound like threats. Nothing that Hick should be dealing with.

"They want me to be their babysitter! That's not my job. All I can do is talk to them, and I've done that before, telling them they'll have to get along, or they need to go live somewhere else."

"Now you'll be the bad guy again, if she calls the police, because people at the city will say you can't control your residents."

"Let 'em say that! I don't need this job." [EXACTLY!] "That's what my boss told the Mayor, when she started on him from what the Fire Chief said, about how we need this rule and that rule about smoking and the trash room. Like we don't already have rules. He told her, 'You know, I don't need this job. I make ZERO salary for doing it.' And then she apologized and said she wasn't blaming him. Well, I don't need it either. I make less than $300 a month. I just do it because I like the people."

I'll be interested to see how this situation turned out. Probably won't know until next week, since Hick doesn't go to lunch on Fridays, and has plans for something else on Monday.

Hick Is Not Only Man's Best Friend

Hick was his do-gooder helpful self earlier this week. He was leaving his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), sitting at the exit of the gravel lot, waiting for traffic to pass. A white dually truck was coming his way at about 45 mph, heading from nowhere towards town on the two-lane blacktop road.

"I pulled out, and I seen a dog in the back of the truck. He jumped up on the toolbox and started walking back and forth. It was some kind of heeler. Just then, he got too close to the edge, and fell off! On the shoulder side of the road. He rolled a couple times, and almost got run over by the back tires! I stopped, because I thought maybe I could catch him. He might be scared and run off. The guy driving the truck stopped and started walking back. I guess he seen the dog in the mirror.

I opened my door and got out, calling to the dog. And before I could grab him, he jumped up in my truck! Walked across the seat and sat down, like he belonged there! The guy came and tried to get him out, but he just looked at him and wouldn't move. The guy had to walk around and get him out the passenger side. I'm glad the dog was okay, and the guy got him back."

"Heh, heh! That dog was holding a grudge! 'How dare you let me fall out of the truck!' Heelers are smart. For that dog, a truck meant a ride. So when he saw your door open, he was ready to go! He didn't care about you or that guy. He just wanted to ride in the truck."

I'm relieved that the dog wasn't hurt. And relieved that the guy got him back. But mostly relieved that Hick didn't get hurt. That happens sometimes when do-gooder good-deeders stop along the road to help somebody.

Hick Gets Involved in Some Shady Business

Hick went to Walmart on Monday to get mini blinds for Bargain House. He needed seven. Three for the living room, and two for each bedroom. He bought them with our debit card, and took them to Bargain House on Tuesday to install them.

"I got to looking at them shades. We needed two for the big window in the living room. I thought something looked off. When I let down the shade, I seen that four of the ears were broke off. You know, the ends, past the cord that holds it together. I asked Old Buddy, 'Did you break off the ends on one of the shades?' And he said no. He said, 'Look. It ain't even the same color.' They was both white, but one seemed really white, and the other one kind of off.

I had taken the hardware out of the box to hang it. The hardware was closed up in plastic, just like with the other ones. But there was no sign of the broken off ears. Not on the floor, not in the box."

"Somebody returned it! I bet they bought a new shade, and put their old broken one in the box, and took it back with the receipt!"

"They might of. It's the only explanation for the different color, and the broken ends. I'll take it back and exchange it."

Which Hick did, on Tuesday. He was shocked at the procedure.

"I took that broken shade back and showed them. I said I'd just go back and get another one. But they wouldn't let me do that! They gave me a gift card for the amount on the receipt. And I had to go back and get another one, and then use the gift card to pay for it!"

"Yeah... that's how they do returns. They were doing that even when I was going to Walmart. And I haven't been there since 2020."

"So what will they do, credit our debit card?"

"No... they gave you back the money on a that gift card. So we're not out any money. You got it back, and spent it again on the other shade."

We're not out any money. Just a little incovenience for Hick, due to some rumpushole trying (and succeeding) to scam Walmart for a new mini blind.

Dumb Man Walking

To understand a Hick conversation, you have to be a little bit psychic. Sometimes, my "shine" is not at the level of Danny Torrance (any Stephen King readers get my drift?).

Tuesday evening, Hick started rattling on about something while I was making his supper of shell noodles with red sauce. I could hear him, but didn't have a clue what was going on.

"You'll never believe what Nick did today. He was out walking on U Highway, and headed for P highway. He had dropped his car off and they wouldn't give him a ride. So he was WALKING!"

Let the record show that Hick has several buddies named Nick. And that the most recent mention of a Nick was last week, when a Nick died. I was pretty sure that wasn't the Nick in Hick's tale, but there's also a Nick that is a regular at Hick's SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), and a Nick that lives out here on our gravel road.

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Nick! He was going to walk home! All the way to Nowhere! I would have just not left my car! They could do it another time, when I knew I had a ride. But that dummy left his car there anyway, and was going to walk home! He said it's 26 miles."

"Wait! I STILL don't know who you're talking about!"

"Nick! From Nick and Bev. Our old neighbors that I was going out to Nowhere today to work on the front door I put on for them. Bev said it didn't work."

"Oh. That totally does not surprise me in the least, now that I know which Nick you're talking about. They're crazy! But how did you know about it? I guess he didn't call Bev to come get him, because he knew she wouldn't leave the house..."

"She wouldn't of left the house. But he tried to call her and couldn't get her. Reception is terrible out there. I've told you that all along. You can't call me or text me there. But Nick was lucky. He called me, and I was still in range. Another mile, and I wouldn't have been. He said he was walking along U highway, and if we saw him to pick him up. So I turned around and drove to find him, and gave him a ride. He'd already gone 6 miles! It took me about 10 minutes to get to him, and then 10 minutes backtracking to where I'd been."

"Well, that's good you could give him a ride."

"I cain't believe he thought he was going to walk that whole way. Bev even asked him why he was getting his car serviced there, instead of up by where he works."

"And she's crazier than he is! But had more sense. What if he'd tried to walk from where he works? That's at least another 30 miles!"

"I don't know. Nothin' they do makes sense. I thought she was probably just not understanding how the door works, but it actually had a broken part. So now I have to get that fixed."

I suppose Hick the savior was in the right place at the right time for Nick. Those 2-lane blacktop highways are no place for a walkin' man.

Hopefully Soon This Room Will be Ready for Living

Hick switched his attention from the Bargain House kitchen to the living room last Wednesday. Once the refrigerator and stove had been moved into the kitchen, it was time to put flooring down in the living room. Hick always says "we" did it, but looks like Old Buddy is doing the work!

That's a good-looking floor. It would speak favorably to me if I was viewing the house with the purpose of purchasing it. I don't know where Hick got that spindly table that his saw is sitting on. It probably came with the house. I can't imagine him moving such a thing in there to work on. 

Hick says he plans to get new mini-blinds for the windows. He's not going all-out for window coverings in a property we are ready to sell. But the old blinds are doing it no favors.

On Thursday, the flooring was all down. Here's a view from the front door area, showing how the living room leads to the kitchen.

The living room still needs trim and receptacle covers, but is basically done. Hick has a little shoring-up work to do under the house, and maybe something in the half-basement. He says he's about ready to list Bargain House for sale, because he can do that work without interruption, even if an agent wants to show the house.

Sadly, our Realtor has retired! She called Hick to tell him. She said the young guy who was working with her is capable of handling the sale. I don't have a problem with that. He's helped Hick a couple times when Realtor was out of the office. I don't see any reason to go with another agency. Any realtor can show the house, just by contacting the office.

(Part 3) A Mystifying Development in the Case of Rumpushole vs Rumpushole

News flash! There IS no honor among rumpusholes! But you probably knew that already.

Hick had in writing (or at least in a text message) the confirmation from Sonny of a property deal. Sonny is the son of Business Owner who has been using HIS LAND for part of a driveway while Hick pays the taxes. The agreement was that Business Owner would pay Hick $1200 for a quit-claim deed to HIS LAND next week in exchange for Hick NOT objecting that evening to a request for a variance to use other properties along the back for another driveway.

Hick followed through with his part of the deal. He went to the variance meeting, and stated that he had reached an agreement with Business Owner, and had no objection to the proposed variance.

The next day, Hick got a text. By way of Sonny, because Business Owner apparently can't be a man and deal directly with Hick (that's MY opinion). This text said that Business Owner wanted a title search, not just a quit-claim deed.

Well, the joke is on Business Owner, because Hick had already decided to have a title company handle the paperwork, and the gal there told him it's actually $15 cheaper to include a title search rather than just the deed. AND Business Owner had said he would pay half to get the title search. Which will cost $300. So now that's another $150 going into Hick's pocket from the sale of HIS LAND.

That's a good thing. Though it's not the deal that was struck at the 11th hour to shut Hick's objecting mouth.

But here's another mystifying development! Hick found out that the other pieces of land that got notices about the variance hearing were all ALREADY OWNED BY BUSINESS OWNER! Whether he had purchased them initially, or through the years, we don't know.

Hick was THE LONE OBSTACLE STANDING IN THE WAY OF THE VARIANCE!

If Hick had objected, even though HIS LAND was not in the area that needed variancing... Business Owner would have been denied. I don't know what effect that might have had on his business. Maybe he would have put in another driveway anyhow, as he did over Hick's land. Maybe nothing would have happened.

It seems to me that Business Owner got to looking into the legality of things after telling Hick to go eff himself because he wasn't going to buy HIS LAND back in June.

It would please Rumpushole Hick to no end, thinking that he's been living rent-free in Business Owner's head for the past six months.

(Part 2) A Mystifying Development in the Case of Rumpushole vs Rumpushole

Hick received the confirmation text within minutes, from the son of Business Owner regarding the purchase of HIS LAND in exchange for keeping his objections to himself at the variance meeting.

"This whole thing seems fishy! How would they know you were going to object to their variance request? Somebody at the city tipped them off! Probably to get back at YOU. Nowhere on that letter did it say you had to notify anybody that you had an objection. It was just a notice of the date and time of the meeting, so you could attend and give your input there. Either your buddy the building inspector called him, or that secretary has it out for you! She's probably the one you kept complaining to all those times about Business Guy's sign and driveway, and The Pony's notice for nuisance weeds, and the trash complaint about tea bottles somebody threw out on the vacant lot."

"She WAS the same one! And Sonny said she's the one who called. So that's not a secret. But maybe the building inspector told her to call."

"In any case, I don't think that's part of the process. They were tipping off Business Owner."

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure they were going to deny the variance if there were any objections. So she called to let him know, and that's why he changed his mind about buying MY LAND a couple hours before the variance meeting."

"Basically, he bought your silence for $1200, heh, heh! Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'll be glad that it's settled, and we don't pay taxes on it for him to use. But the timing sure is funny."

"I was just telling my buddy at lunch at the Senior Center. 'I'm finally getting my chance to stick it to Business Owner.' He said, 'How's that?' And I said the guy's name, and how I was going to make a statement at the variance meeting about how he's been using MY LAND while I'm paying taxes on it. And my buddy said, 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. He's really a nice guy.'"

"So YOU'RE the big rumpushole, because you object to a nice guy making a profit in his business that is using YOUR LAND for free, for his driveway, and wouldn't consider buying it from you."

"Apparently so! I'm not asking for a fortune. That $1200 isn't going to make or break us. And it's just a drop in the bucket for him. But I'm the bad guy!"

________________________________________________________________

Hick went to the meeting. He saw his boss from the apartments, who happens to be on the board. And a couple other people he knows. He got there about 10 minutes early. All the chairs were arranged around a table for the board. Hick dragged another chair over, to sit behind the people he knew. The (traitorous) secretary was there. 

"She smiled real big, and apologized to me for having to move my own chair. I announced that I had reached an agreement with Business Owner, and that I had no objections to his proposed variance, and then I left."

"That's it? How will they know you kept your part of the deal?"

"It will have to be in the minutes of the meeting. I've been thinking it over, and I'm going by the title office to ask how much they'll charge to write up the paperwork. I'd just as soon do that as risk anything going wrong. I think they charged us $300 when they did it for one of our other properties. So that's worth it to me."

I hope everything goes right with this deal. It will prove that there is honor among rumpusholes.

A Mystifying Development in the Case of Rumpushole vs Rumpushole (1)

Hick left home Thursday morning with plans to work on Bargain House, pay some bills in person for assorted insurances, and work in his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). Then he was going to that variance meeting at 6:00, about the guy who is using HIS LAND as a driveway for his business. The city building inspector had returned Hick's call on Wednesday, and confirmed that he did indeed have a right to make a statement at the variance meeting.

I cautioned Hick not to be too much of a rumpushole, and get arrested. "I don't know how to bail you out. So don't get carried away and locked up."

Hick assured me that he wouldn't.

"You know that guy is going to be fuming. And he'll deny that he told you to go eff yourself when you offered to sell him YOUR LAND."

"I don't care. I want it on record that he's using MY LAND, and I'm still paying the taxes."

"Just say that you know the city probably can't resolve YOUR problem, but that you think it isn't fair that this guy is making money with a business that is using the property of other people, giving them no compensation. That should sound reasonable. And it's the facts."

"I won't get in no trouble. That guy probably ain't even gonna show up."

"I bet he will! You showed up for your variance hearing. Not that it did any good."

_________________________________________________________

Anyhoo... Thursday at 4:20, I got a call from Hick that changed everything!

"I just got a call from Business Guy's son. Sonny said that Business Guy won't be at the variance meeting, because he's in Florida. And that Sonny told him HE can't go either. Sonny said, 'I'm just the middle man. Dad said to call you. The secretary at the city called us about the variance meeting, and said you were going to be there. And she said you would probably be open to selling your property.'

I told Sonny, yeah, that I had offered to sell it to his dad, and he basically told me I was crazy, that wasn't happening, and I could go eff myself.

Sonny said, 'Dad's not a bad guy. You two just got on the wrong side of each other. He talked to a lawyer about it to see what rights he had. I told him, Dad, why not just buy it and be done with it? Because we could spend a lot more money on a lawyer fighting it. So he said for me to talk to you and see what you want.'

I said that I originally asked for $1200-$1500. I've gotta get back the taxes I paid on it for 35 years, and what I paid for it. And I think it's fair if I make a few hundred dollars profit. That's what people do when they invest in land. I told Sonny that I'd take $1200. I ain't tryin' to cheat anybody.

Sonny said that if I'd agree not to object to the variance, and give him a quit-claim deed next week, they'll pay me $1200 for MY LAND. I said that's a deal. As long as he sent me a text stating to those conditions, so I had proof of the agreement."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Another Inkling of Hope for Civilization

I went in 10Box on Wednesday. I try not to go there on that day, because it's when ads come out. All the handicap spaces, and those regular spaces along the front of the store, were taken. So I parked out in the lot to wait for someone to leave. I was next to a cart return that held two carts. As I was contemplating using one as a cart/walker, and just staying there, an employee came over and took the carts. Nope! I was not going to walk unaided across that lot, and halfway across the store to their inside cart corral.

Within five minutes, a guy came out. He looked pretty able-bodied to me, but DID have a handicap plate on his car. He stowed away his groceries in the back seat. Pushed his cart up against the front of the store. Greeted his woman who came out with nothing in her hands but a purse. Then they got in the car and backed out. You can bet I had T-Hoe revved up to go get that space.

I rushed to perch my glasses on my head and get out. I was so afraid some do-gooder was going to grab that cart before I could get to it! An older woman walked past it. And then a young couple. I nabbed that cart and headed inside. Where it was indeed crowded. I had to wait for a looky-loo to finally move past the lemons. Her cart blocked the whole aisle, and had to go out of my way around the onion/potato bins to get there. Huh. Lemons were 48 cents apiece. While limes were 10 cents. I got 10 limes. They go well with Shasta Zero Sugar Cola, too. Of course I had to backtrack to find a bag. I also grabbed a pack of shredded slaw mix from the cooler. 

One aisle over, I picked up a box of Maple Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal. And a box of strawberry protein bars for Hick. That was it. I had four items. Well. If you count the bag of 10 limes as one item. Which I do.

Only two checkers were open. One had just finished with an old guy in a beeper cart. He was slowly putting his stuff in bags. There there was a guy with a full cart, and a lady with a 3/4 full cart. I was directly behind her, but down an aisle. People coming from my right, across the main aisle, couldn't really see that I was waiting, though I could see them. They might have thought I was just shopping. Or waiting for room to pull out and continue through the store. Two of them stopped. I guess they were putting themselves in line. 

So I turned my attention to the next line, a bit to my left. Still three customers ahead of me. With partially full carts. I pointed my cart/walker in that line. An older lady coming across from the left saw me. She wheeled her cart down my aisle and got behind me. Then a 40-something good ol' boy in jean shorts (it was 66 degrees on Jan 7!) and a baseball cap, with a full cart, wheeled up to the side. Like he was just waiting there for his turn after us.

One of the managers came up and opened a third register. "I can take someone over here!"

Good Ol' Boy was in that line like he had been shot out of a cannon! Ain't that the way it always goes? The last person in line becomes first when a new line opens! The people already in the other lines made no move to go over there. To be fair, they did not have a clear path, and seemed satisfied that they had staked out their "almost-next" positions. 

Older Lady behind me said, "Do you want to go?"

"No. You can go ahead."

She only had one item in her cart. A big bag of birdseed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

Older Lady got behind Good Ol' Boy. I wheeled up behind her.

"Oh, no. I feel bad. You were ahead of me!"

"It's okay. You have less items. I'm fine with it."

Such a sweet lady. Willing to wait with her birdseed for me to take my rightful place in line with my four items. As for Good Ol' Boy... I'm not sure there's hope for humanity if he rules the world. His behavior did not surprise me at all.

Bargain House Kitchen is ALMOST Done

Each day (well, three hours of each day, four days a week) brings the Bargain House kitchen closer to completion. You may recall that Hick was waiting on a box of flooring because he ran out.

There's the part he put down, which matches what he put above the cabinets.

While waiting on the flooring, Hick experimented with the door trim. At first it was going to be white, but he sent this sample, asking what I thought of black:

I like it! So the door trim will (eventually) be black.

The overhead light has been installed:

Hick said it had several settings, and he put it on the brightest. It's an attractive light.

Meanwhile, the stove and refrigerator are now in place:

The kitchen door is still lacking trim, because Hick has to get more trim boards. But the flooring is done, so there's that.

My opinion is that the kitchen will be what sells the house. Hick thinks it will be the small bathroom, with the corner shower, because it gives the house two bathrooms.

Hick Might as Well be Playing Whack a Mole

Hick has several things needing his attention. Just when he thinks one is under control, he discovers it is not. Like the upcoming city meeting about the property of the guy who is squatting on HIS LAND. Hick called to talk to the building inspector, to see if he would actually be allowed to speak at the meeting concerning this guy's request for a variance. The building inspector wasn't in, so Hick left a message. Never got a return call. So Hick plans to show up anyway.

Remember the "fire" at the apartment building? Hick and Old Buddy installed new locks on the doors of assorted closets and storage rooms, so they all work on the same key. Well. On Monday, Hick discovered that one of the doors with a new lock had been kicked in! Not completely. Nobody gained access. But the frame of the door was damaged, and had to be fixed. Hick can't imagine anybody that would do that. Unless maybe a vagrant somehow got into the building, and wanted to sleep in that room. Funny how only one door was damaged.

Oh, and you may recall that Hick talked to his boss about his dissatisfaction with how the Fire Chief handled the emergency, concerning the lock box and not knowing how to access the apartments. Hick's boss has since talked to the mayor about it, who was quite displeased with the info. Saying that she had personally sent the chief an email about the lock box, as she had promised at the city meeting. And she was going to search her emails to see if the chief had even read it.

None of these untied ends are going to endear Hick to city power-holders...

Maybe It's Not the End of Civilization Just Yet

I was not thrilled to see a small black SUV parked in my rightful handicap space at the Gas Station Chicken Store on Sunday afternoon. No handicap plates, but sometimes there's a placard hanging from the mirror, that I can't see from behind. At least the parking space by the FREE AIR hose was empty. I pulled past the diesel pumps, made a U-turn in the alley, and nosed T-Hoe into that FREE AIR space. As I've mentioned before, there is still plenty of room behind that space for a vehicle to pull in and stretch that air hose to all four tires.

Anyhoo... I was not thrilled about walking twice as far. But it is what it is. With the sun's glare, I couldn't tell if there was a handicap placard hanging in the small black SUV. But I DID see a driver behind the wheel. Huh. I waited a couple minutes, but that car didn't leave. I heaved a put-upon sigh. Opened T-Hoe's door, and got one leg out onto the running board.

What's THIS??? The small black SUV was moving! Leaving my rightful handicap space. I might or might not have muttered "RUMPUSHOLE!" Just because I was already halfway out. But I hadn't stepped down yet, so I maneuvered my left leg back inside, started T-Hoe, and rolled down into my rightful handicap space. Then began my dismount efforts again.

Huh. That small black SUV had parked sideways up by the dumpster, behind the FREE AIR space I had just vacated. I guess maybe he needed some FREE AIR. As I got my knees loosened up to begin my trek inside, and closed T-Hoe's door, I heard someone call to me from the small black SUV. It was the curly-haired 20-something driver.

"I'm sorry about that! I was just waiting for someone to get air."

I have no idea what came over me! I was not at all mad at this kid! He was APOLOGIZING!!! Thinking of how his actions had affected another human being!

"Oh, that's okay. I'm here now. It's not a problem."

I think maybe my heart grew two sizes that day! I didn't even question why This Kid had been sitting in the handicap space when the FREE AIR space was open. Nor why there was only one customer inside, who did not go to the small black SUV upon leaving, nor why The Kid was still sitting there alone, not getting any FREE AIR, when I came back out.

All that mattered was the kind apology. Which may or may not have had anything to do with the presence of two police cars sitting across the moat facing our way, on the parking lot of Hick's pharmacy.

T-Hoe Clings to Life

Poor T-Hoe just can't catch a health break. So soon after being resuscitated with an OIL CHANGE and suspension gewgaws and new spark plugs... another issue has come to my attention! It was on Friday, on my way home from errand day. I saw all the normal red lights and scrolling warnings, but above the gas gauge, something caught my eye.

"Hey. What is that gauge above the gas? It goes from 0 to 80, and has a picture of something like a drippy watering can. The needle doesn't move. Shouldn't it be going about halfway when the car is running? And not just sit on ZERO?"

"I don't know. Are you talking about the oil pressure? It should be moving, yes. I'll go out and have a look."

Hick grabbed T-Hoe's key and went to the garage. Came back a few minutes later.

"It should be alright. Maybe just a bad sensor. It starts up and it isn't missing. So you're getting oil pressure."

"Won't it break down? I don't want to get stranded in town! You don't always answer your phone."

"It's fine. You won't break down. It must be the sensor. I'll have Mick look at it next week. After he's back from vacation, and I get my truck heater fixed."

Well... if Hick says so. I made it to town and back on Saturday without a problem.

Hick Is Not Afraid to be the Rumpushole

I was apprehensive Friday afternoon when Hick brought in the mail. There was an envelope from the city. It was Sis-Town. Where The Pony's house is located, and another lot we own. Both having generated notices to Hick previously that he was not taking care of the upkeep. Even though homes around them were falling down, and weeds higher than those Hick had just mowed the day before the letter. You may recall that one notice was because somebody kept throwing plastic tea bottles on the lot, with Hick having no idea they were there, not regularly driving by that location.

Anyhoo... I told Hick, "I wonder what you've done wrong NOW?" 

The letter had our names on the envelope, but inside, it started with To Whom It May Concern. The subject was:

_______________________________________________________________

Notice of Hearing for Planning and Zoning Case BLAH BLAH BLAH

According to the land records obtained from the county assessor's office, you are a property owner adjacent to the property listed below. Therefore, you are being notified of a hearing to be held before the Sis-Town Planning and Zoning Committee to consider the following:

Case BLAH BLAH BLAH, a request to vacate a portion of an alley adjacent to lots C,D,E,F & G, and a portion of an alley between lot Z and the railroad property.

This meeting will be held at [City Headquarters] on January 8 at #:00 p.m. in the council chambers.

_______________________________________________________________

I asked Hick if he knew where this address was. 

"Yeah. It's there by the tracks. Where that guy has his driveway on MY PROPERTY!"

Oh, sweet, sweet serendipity! 

This is NOT the same city where we had requested a variance in order to split the Double Hovel flip house(s) for ease of re-sale. Where we were denied our variance, even though none of the property owners within a two-block radius showed up after Hick hand-delivered notices of the hearing and proposal to them. But it's the same kind of process. And HICK WANTS HIS VOICE TO BE HEARD!

"I've got a good mind to go there and tell them, "I don't really care if he uses this alley for his back driveway. He's been doing it for a while now. And he has his front driveway ON MY PROPERTY! The property I've paid taxes on for over 35 years, and he just uses it like he owns it, and has refused my offer to sell it to him. I'm still paying the taxes. It seems like he's allowed to do whatever he wants in this city, and nothing I say will have any effect on this variance. I'd just like to know why he can get away with this."

"Heh, heh! You've got enough enemies in city government there already! This isn't going to help their opinion of you! But I understand."

I don't imagine that Hick will get so carried away that he will be carried away and locked up. He'll speak his mind. Gladly assume the mantle of Rumpushole. And no doubt get under that owner's skin in the process.

After all, that's Hick's goal... it doesn't pay to be a rumpushole to Hick.

Val Is Feeling Unseen

Unseen and unheard! Like a child in the '50s and '60s, only not SEEN as well as not heard. Like an invisible woman in the Twilight Zone. As if I don't exist.

On Thursday, I sent a text to Genius. It was a question about getting those winning Pennsylvania scratchers back to him for redemption and payout. Not that I care so much, having won only $10. But it matters to The Pony with an $80 win, and especially to miser Hick, with his $150.

Anyhoo... this text was sent at NOON:36. That would be 1:36 Pittsburgh time. I did not feel it was being intrusive. I don't text Genius often. Less that once a month, and always with a specific purpose. He generally responds within minutes or a couple hours. But this time, there was nothing. I didn't try again. It WAS New Year's Day. Maybe he had plans to go out to some swanky restaurant. Surely he was not still sleeping off New Year's Eve. Yet when I checked my phone the next morning, my text was still UNREAD.

I shrugged off my invisibility, figuring I would just go ahead with my plan on returning those lottery tickets. If Genius had a better plan, then he should have VALidated my attempt by at least reading the text, and proposing something else.

Meanwhile, I called The Pony, since our Errand Day had been shifted to Friday, because of the holiday. I wanted to confirm the time I was stopping by. I considered 9:15 a reasonable time. Not too early to call. And it was during a commercial of my show, My True Crime Story, about Yonus Davis and Canadian Football and Molly.

The Pony did not answer. My call went to voicemail. I tried again at 10:00. Voicemail. Well. If Pony was out driving somewhere, doing other errands before our afternoon plans, of course I wouldn't want distracted driving just to answer me. I sent a text at 10:45.

Aha! I got an answer within minutes. The Pony had been soaking in a jetted-tub bath, with phone on the charger in another room. So it turns out I was NOT invisible after all.

Which was further VALidated when Genius sent a text at 11:02, approving my ticket plan, and saying, "Sorry, busy day yesterday with a friend in town."

Whew! That was close. I was starting to feel like I was the last woman on earth.

Who's Cheatin' Whom?

Hick had an attack of conscience on New Year's Eve. It had nothing to do with the holiday. 

"I just realized that I shorted Old Buddy when I paid him this afternoon. He didn't say nothin'. I called him a few minutes ago, and told him I'll pay him tomorrow."

"Was that some trick to make sure he works with you on New Year's Day? He's probably out celebrating tonight."

"He might be. And he might still call in tomorrow. But I felt bad that I shorted him. I wanted to let him know that it wasn't on purpose, and I'll pay him."

The next morning, Hick had not heard anything from Old Buddy. So assumed he was coming to work as usual. But his mind on Old Buddy raised a question.

"I had a box of brads in the back of my truck. I'm pretty sure that Old Buddy threw it away when we went to the dump. It was only half full. But I can use them. I think he threw it away with the trash, instead of putting it in our bucket with the tools and equipment."

I guess I'll find out when Hick gets home this evening... I'm also curious if the trip to the dump was before or after Hick shorted Old Buddy on his payday.

Just a LIttle Trim for Bargain House

Work on Bargain House continues. The lipstick is doing this little pig a big favor. On Monday, Hick sent pictures of his latest progress.

The old glass-paned kitchen door that leads to the laundry room/back entrance has been painted. It just needs trim, which I think will be white. Black was considered, but that might be too much of a contrast. I'm pretty sure it got a new doorknob, too.

The ceiling is painted, and the area above the cabinets has been covered with flooring. I thought Hick was going to just paint it white, but I like the flooring there. It looks more like a kitchen, and less like an operating room, heh, heh. There's the space for the new stove and refrigerator.

The new stove and refrigerator, which are currently cooling their tiny metal feet in the living room, awaiting their grand entrance. You can see where Hick was putting the black trim along the ceiling and the backsplash/counter. He ran out, and had to paint some more.

Hick is slowly learning. Here, he said, "All trim in." And on the first three pictures, he said, "Kitchen painted and almost trimmed."

The flooring is now in progress. Most of the kitchen is done, but Hick ran out of flooring, and had to order another box. It should be here next week. Lowe's doesn't stock this gray flooring, which is the same as what Hick put above the cabinets.

The kitchen has turned out nicer than I expected.