Hick Knows a Lot, But Not as Much as He THINKS He Knows

Hick is on a roll with his misdirects concerning Cheap House. I think he might be setting a personal record for irritating me so many different ways on one topic.

Tuesday evening, I asked if he'd checked on an industrial dumpster.

"No. Not yet."

"What about the appliances? You're leaving them there, right?"

"No. The appliances are going away."

"But they'll fill up a dumpster! You already said you were worried about how big a dumpster we would need. For couches and a mattress."

"I'm not leaving appliances in the house. I'm tearing it down to the studs."

"The old appliances should be the problem of the new flipper who buys it. We're not fixing it up to make it pretty. Like you said how the bathtub was nice, and could be used. What do WE care? We're not flipping this house."

"I know, Val. But them guys I'm hiring to tear it out will get rid of the appliances. They'll want them for scrap metal. So they won't be going in the dumpster. They're all junk. I didn't even open the refrigerator. I don't want to know what's inside!"

"You better tell your guys not to open it in the house!"

"I don't care. They're the ones who'll be working inside and smelling it!"

Talk (my interrogation) turned to the closing date.

"So you don't know yet when we'll close?"

"I'm not so sure we'll have to. This is a foreclosure. All the title work has been done. There's no debts left. I don't think we'll have to sign anything. Just give them a cashier's check."

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard! Of course we'll have a closing! They're not handing us a house with nothing being signed! I was right about the cashier's check, wasn't I?"

"No. Not really. Loan Officer would have taken my personal check. It's that woman who said no."

"That's how she got to be in her position! NOT by taking personal checks from random people buying property!"

I can't imagine what cockamamie idea Hick will come up with next. Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll change his story when he turns out to be wrong. There's nothing bad about saying, "Oh, I was mistaken." He has to take it further, trying to prove he was right all along. Like I CAIN'T UNDERSTAND NOTHIN'! That's the irritating part.

I THINK the Cheap House Deal is in Progress

Loan Officer did not call Hick on Monday as promised on Friday on the steps of the courthouse. Hick called him on Tuesday. Then sent me a text. In his usual Hicktextic fashion:

"Talked with Savings & Loan. They are getting the dead and all made up and will let me know and I can do a wire transfer or cashier check"

Somebody unfamiliar with Hicktext might worry. It doesn't seem a good omen to hear that the dead and all are being made up! Why? To look more presentable? Even if you assume that Hick meant DEED rather than dead, being made up sounds like something is being falsified!

So much for Hick's declaration that a personal check should be fine at the closing, to buy a $15,000 house, because the main office of our bank is right across the street from the Savings & Loan. We've always used a cashier's check to buy our real estate. I wouldn't want to accept a personal check from any buyer.

You'd think Hick would be walking on daisies, in a jolly mood, pampering Val for allowing him to make this unwanted (to her) purchase, (even though Val was outvoted by Hick and The Pony). But no. Hick is being his usual cantankerous self! I swear, I might have to ask his harem to intervene.

As of Tuesday morning, Hick still hadn't looked up the two local websites that rent industrial dumpsters.

"I talked to my buddy who's doing the cleanout. He said he rented a dumpster once, and it was $450. We're gonna need at least a 20-yard dumpster--"

"I gave you those websites! There's the list right in front of you. Each one of them has a picture of the sizes, and the EXACT COST they charge, for how long!"

Hick picked up the list and fiddled with his phone. I don't know what he was looking at, but when he turned his phone to show me, there were NO pictures. Just a yellow box saying the size and price.

"I don't know what you're on, but it's NOT the company website!"

"It is too, Val! See here? There's the name, and their address. It says to call them for a quote."

Hick had googled the name of the company, and clicked on the first result. Which I assume was a paid advertisement for local trash companies, and not the specific website. I swear, you CAIN'T TELL HICK NOTHIN'!

"That's not their website. I'll show you tonight on my laptop. Besides, I told you to get an estimate if HE gets the dumpster, and one if WE get the dumpster. So we can see what's cheapest for us."

"Val. The guys I get cain't afford to get a dumpster. WE are paying for the dumpster!"

"That's not what we talked about. Besides, if WE are paying, what keeps them from taking too much time, and getting us charged for another week? AND, you just said that your buddy had rented one before! So obviously he had the money."

"WE are getting the dumpster. He'll give me a quote when I walk him through the house."

"Make sure you write down what the deal is! About how much time they have, the total price, and when you will pay them!"

Hick is being extra dodgy about his hired help, and I don't like it.

More Ominous on a Cloudy Day

Here's your first picture of Cheap House. The exterior is kind of cute when you drive by on a sunny day. However... this is the Glamour Shot of this lipstick-needy pigsty. 

Hick has already made a trip to Lowe's for padlocks and plywood. He's boarding up broken windows, to keep the city off his back. This is NOT the city which seems to persecute Hick. That's where Lap House lives. This is the city we've had reasonable relations with, despite them not granting a variance for the Double Hovel, nor fixing the city sidewalk at Bargain House. They don't go out of their way to nitpick, just follow their regular protocol as they would for any other property owner.

Despite the lack of tender loving care, Cheap House is not all that unappealing from the street. We've seen many run-down houses that seem to smell from the listing photo. AND for much more than $15,000. 

There's no plan to make this one into a safe, livable home. Just put in windows, patch up structural problems, tear the interior down to the studs, then offer it to a flipper.

I actually have a few pictures of the interior. I don't know if you're ready for such squalor. I may not post them, unless you promise to sit down, smelling salts handy, ready to close your browser.

________________________________________________________________

Welp! Hick has already broken one promise. I just got an email from the electric company that a new account  has been opened. So much for not turning on the utilities. I weep for Lap House. Hick has a new baby.

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Hick Is On a Buyer's High

Without yet having put pens to paper, and taken legal possession of Cheap House, Hick is already making plans to pour money into his newest acquisition. He had his verbal agreement to purchase Cheap House on Friday afternoon. Saturday morning, Hick was already shopping it out at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5).

"I was tellin' of my buddies about gettin' the house, and he said he had looked at it. He thought about buyin' it. He said he passed on it, because he didn't want to do all the clean-out. When I told him my plan was to tear it down to the studs, and get rid of that back porch, and fix the hole in the floor, then sell it to a flipper... he said he might be interested! That when I get it ready, to let him know what I want for it."

"Is he a flipper?"

"No. Him and a partner buy houses, then fix them up and rent them. They don't sell them. So not really a flipper."

"So they DO buy old run-down houses and fix them?"

"Yeah. To rent. I talked to my buddy I was gonna hire to tear it out. I'm gonna take him by and show him, and get an estimate."

"Can you do that now? We don't legally own it yet. Do you have keys?"

"No. Nobody had any keys, Val. Even the Savings & Loan don't have any keys. I'll just cut off the padlocks that the lady put on there, and then put my own padlocks on."

"Will your buddy haul away all the junk? Or will you do that part? I know you said it would be cheaper to rent a dumpster than make all those trips to the landfill, and pay to dump."

"I don't know. I'll have to see what he says."

"Make sure you get an estimate for HIM clearing out the trash, and one if YOU dump the trash. So we'll know what's the best plan."

"Yeah, I will. I'm takin' my old weedeater on wheels to get it fixed. That'll be the easiest way to mow the lawn there. There's already weeds knee-high, so I'll have to get on it. It might cost $100 to fix my weedeater, but that's cheaper than $300-$400 for a new one."

While I was cooking Hick's supper (chicken, stuffing, baked beans, rolls), I looked up two businesses that rent the big dumpsters. I wrote down the URLs and the business names, and gave them to Hick.

"You can look these up. The first one is here in town. They charge $5/mile extra if you're more than 20 miles away, which Cheap House isn't. And the other one is over in Sis-Town. They have the sizes and what they cost on their websites."

"We'll probably need at least 20 cubic yards. Maybe 40."

I went back to the kitchen. In true Hick fashion, he completely ignored the info I had given him. And started searching for the price of dumpsters.

"It says here the average price of renting an industrial dumpster in our county is--"

"WHY are you doing that??? Go to those websites I gave you! They have the ACTUAL  PRICE for EACH SIZE of dumpster! An average isn't going to tell you what you need to know."

Poor Lap House. It's going to be the neglected step-house for a while.

The Auction That Wasn't

The auction on the courthouse steps for the sale of foreclosed Cheap House was scheduled for 1:00. I had a leg/knee therapy appointment at 1:00. I told Hick that I would not be available for a phone call until 2:00. But that he could text me with any news, and I could call later. Well. You know Hick...

I had just sat down on the end of the hydraulic table/bed. Legs dangling over the end, I was being hoisted ceilingward when by phone started ringing at 1:04.

"Oh, that will be my husband. He was going to an auction to buy a flip house at 1:00. I TOLD him I couldn't talk to him until after 2:00."

My occupational therapist didn't mind. "I can let you down. I don't mind if you take a call. I'm just going to do some measurements after I unwrap your legs."

"No. I'll call him later. No big deal."

My phone was zipped up in my purse, on the floor against the wall, by my shoes and socks. By the time I got to it, Hick would have lost patience and hung up. It wasn't exactly an emergency. But then I worried. What if Hick was going to bid MORE than we agreed on??? What if he'd already called The Pony and gotten an agreement? Oh, well. If that was the case, I was outvoted anyway. My phone kept interrupting. At 1:07. Then 1:27. Just texts this time. Does Hick not understand the meaning of an APPOINTMENT?

By 2:04, I had been unwrapped, measured, massaged, re-wrapped, and was back outside in T-Hoe. I read the texts:

1:07 "We own the house. Nobody else came to bid. Loan Officer said we'll do the paperwork next week. He would let me know."

1:27 "No one else even showed up"

I could tell Hick wanted to talk. To revel in his newest acquisition. I called.

"Did you write him a check?"

"No. We'll have a closing at the same place we went to sell the other house. I guess they'll take a personal check. Our bank is right across the street from them, if they want to verify it! I don't see no need to get a cashier's check and pay $10 for it."

"Did you find close parking by the courthouse?"

"Yeah. Right in front. Loan Officer and a gal from the Savings & Loan got there about 12:45. Then a gal from the title company showed up. [She actually owns the title company, but is a trustee of the Savings & Loan that foreclosed on Cheap House, and was there representing the Savings & Loan.] I got out and walked over. It was just me. At 1:00, the Title Co Gal asked if I was there to bid on the house. I said, 'Not for the price they're starting with, no.' Loan Officer said they were starting the bid at $18,400.'"

"Wait! Yesterday he told you $18,300! So it went up $100 overnight?"

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, she handed me these papers, saying she was required by law to disclose that the house had been used for meth production. It's a legal thing. I'm not worried about that. When I said I wasn't bidding for that price, Loan Officer said he would still sell me the house at our previous agreed-on price of $15,000. Title Co Gal said, 'You'll have to make your arrangements with him (Loan Officer), then we will schedule the closing.' So I'll talk to him Monday. Oh, and it will be "$15,500, because nobody paid the taxes on it last year, and that's $500."

"So we, as the buyer, have to pay SOMEBODY ELSE'S DEBT? That doesn't sound right."

"I know. I'm gonna ask that on Monday. He said all debts were dead once the foreclosure happened. That nobody can come back on us for any judgments. I'm gonna ask why that doesn't apply to taxes, too."

"Well. It's not THAT much. We're getting a really cheap house."

Anyhoo... it's a done deal, except for the official closing and money transfer, which will be soon, I'm sure. They're desperate to unload this house! Hick is already calling his "guys" who will do the demolition. He's using one who's a contractor, which means the contractor will be responsible if anything happens to his workers on our property.

Hick is not worried about the meth thing. I don't think it will affect the resale to another flipper, which is what we're planning for Cheap House after structural cleanup. Hick says we're tearing it down to the studs, so there won't be anything meth-y in the walls or hidden. And that he'll get somebody to inspect it and verify nothing is there.

How do you do THAT? I can't imagine there are inspectors to certify buildings as meth-free! Only police with a drug dog, who aren't going to do private inspections. The notice Hick got was Missouri Statute 442.606, which is a disclosure concerning a property used for meth production, OR as a residence for a person convicted of meth crimes. It's not something that would dissuade me from buying a house. It's not like it's infested with black mold or eaten up by termites. I suppose we'll just have to give the same notice to a prospective buyer.

Anyhoo... once again, Thevictorians have TWO flip houses at the same time. 

A pain for bookkeeper Val.

Last Minute Info Before the Cheap House Auction

Thursday morning at Thevictorian Central...

Hick is in a tizzy over this Cheap House auction. He keeps reminding me he'll need a check Friday, in case he wins the bidding. 

"I guess they'll take a personal check. I don't know why they wouldn't. I haven't been to one of these foreclosure auctions. Just the delinquent tax sale auction. But that's run by the county, and not a bank."

Hick has also decided he won't have time for lunch Friday. Well. For a packed lunch that he usually takes on Friday to his SUS2.5. 

"Yeah, don't pack me no lunch. I won't have time."

"The auction is at 1:00. How will you not have time? When you go to the Senior Center, you eat at 11:00. I don't know why you couldn't eat lunch and then drive over to the courthouse. It's not even 10 minutes away."

"Well... I'll have to take time to close up my shop. I'll get a burger or something."

Heh, heh. Sounds like Hick would just rather have a burger. Which I think would take more time than microwaving a Pizza Pocket and opening a mini bag of chips. But I'm not one to interfere with Hick's auction prep juju.

Hick called me at 10:10.

"I got a call from Loan Officer about that foreclosure. He said they will start the bidding at $18,300. I told him we weren't going to bid over $18,000. He said to show up anyway. That if nobody bids on it, they will sell it to us for the $15,000 we originally agreed on. I told him okay, but that I wasn't bidding at $18,300. So we'll see what happens."

"I imagine somebody will be there, and bid on it. That won't break my heart, heh, heh. We only need one flippin' house at a time. You have enough work at Lap House to let people work there."

"We're on the way home with a load of junk from the basement right now."

"Why do WE need more junk?"

"It's lumber, Val. I'm putting it under the lean-to at the barn."

"I guess that's okay. Did you know your furnace guys showed up at The Pony's house?"

"Yeah. I gave them the wrong address."

"That doesn't surprise me!"

"Me either. One of the furnace guys didn't show up, and my buddy said he really had another job he needed to get done today. So they're coming back tomorrow. They got a little done while they was there."

"Hopefully they go to the right house tomorrow!"

"They will. They've been there now."

It's a dangerous situation for the next 24 hours! Hick is walking around with two blank checks! One for the furnace guy, and one for the foreclosure auction. I hope there's not more than one house being auctioned!

If I Was The Pony, I Might be Cursing My Flippin' Life, and My Heritage

Thursday morning, I got a text shortly after 8:00, from The Pony, questioning our Errand Day plans. Rather than texting back, I decided on a quick call.

"No, I don't really need any groceries. We'll just do the bank and gas and lottery."

"Guess who just knocked on my door right before 8:00."

"Oh, no! Your dad?"

"No. It was a furnace company. They asked if this was Thevictorian residence. I said yes, and they said, 'We're here to put in your furnace.' I told them I didn't NEED a furnace. That I already had one, but I could believe my dad sent them here. The guy pulled out his phone, and said, 'Well, this is the address, and it even says on the corner.' I told him, 'You need the OTHER corner, at the end of this block.' So they went down there to the flip house."

"Of course. That's your dad!"

"Yep. I saw the guy's phone. Dad had given them MY address!"

"What a pleasant way to wake up. I hate it when people knock on my door!"

"I had just gone to lie down in my second bedroom. You know how it is. Sometimes you just like a change when you're laying around the house doing nothing."

"I figured there would be things like this, knowing your dad, with Lap House so close to your house."

Anyhoo... I knew Lap House was getting the furnace on Thursday. I sent a check with Hick for payment. Renovations are underway. Maybe The Pony should be prepared for tradesmen traffic.

Declarations May Vary

I feel like an overstuffed horse's rumpus! Hick keeps baiting and switching me! It's all about Cheap House. Hick tells me what he thinks that property is worth, and what he'd do to it. I gobble up that info, trusting Hick's judgment. He's done pretty well, you know, flipping houses and putting money in our socks buried in the backyard...pockets...bank account...investment CDs. But then when I least expect it, SWITCH SWITCH SWITCH! Ouch! That smarts!

Tuesday, The Pony came out to celebrate Mother's Day. We picked up Chinese food. I didn't have to do anything. But then Hick said we would have a talk about Cheap House over the meal. The auction is FRIDAY. The Pony already flipped on me, and said it's okay to buy Cheap House, as long as Hick doesn't pay more than our original offer (of $15,000) to the Savings & Loan doing the repossession. And Hick had declared, only a week ago, that on second inspection, he felt like we should only pay $10,000.

Oh, but on Tuesday, Hick was pushing for paying $18,000, upon which he would put about $12,000 to $15,000 into it, just tearing it down to the studs and fixing a hole in the floor and putting in windows where they were broken and boarded.

"WAIT! That means we'll have over $30,000 in it! That's what I thought we could sell it for, really quick. To another flipper. Now you're doing flipper work, when THEY should have to be the ones to put in windows and get it livable. AND we'll be paying insurance on it, and utilities. There's no reason to have TWO flip houses at the same time, when you barely have time to work on ONE. We've had Lap House for TWO MONTHS, and all you've done is turn on gas and electric and water and get insurance and clean a little junk out of the basement. IN TWO MONTHS."

"Val. I can't do it all myself. I'd hire somebody to tear it out."

"That's MORE money. And that's my point. YOU don't have time to do it. You're saying what I just said, like that's some kind of excuse for putting more money into this house."

"Val. We could still sell it for about $40,000. We'd still be making money. I won't turn on the utilities. But we'll have to get insurance, yeah."

"That doesn't seem to me to be a good deal. It will take more of your time away from Lap House, which is where we'll make the money, selling a finished house. I don't think dragging it out, putting time and money into Cheap House, just to make $5000 each (probably less with commissions), is worth all the trouble."

"Mom. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money!"

"Not for everything he'll have to do. He's got too much going on."

"Val. You can't make that kind of money on interest these days."

"You don't have to DO anything to make interest! It takes up none of your time to keep you from your store or the apartments or your side jobs or LAP HOUSE."

"Mom. Really. I'm fine with spending $18,000 and gutting the house. It will still make money."

So here we go again. Val is the odd gal out. I can only hope that there are bidders who want to pay more for this unadvertised house on the courthouse steps. I doubt that Hick is the only flipper that Loan Office notifies of these things.

Perhaps Being Right is Not Sufficient

Val was a victim of road rage on Monday. Or perhaps she was the perpetrator! Here's what went down...

I was over on the back side of Sis-Town, at a 4-way intersection. It has four stop signs, no light. Each direction has a straight lane, and a left turn lane. It can sometimes be hectic if there are eight cars waiting their turns. But Monday, there were only TWO cars. A white sedan on my left, coming from the highway, or a convenience store thereby. And T-Hoe.

We were both going straight across the intersection. White Sedan was headed towards the industrial park. I was continuing along an outer route that would eventually bring me to my bank and an intersection with a light. The time was around 12:10. So not really a rush hour.

We both arrived at the same time. I didn't see White Sedan rolling on, as people will do when they're in a hurry. Nor was I rolling. I just decided to make my move. Vaguely remembering way back when I was studying for my driver's license test, how at such an intersection, with no clear idea of whose turn it was, that the car on the right has the right of way. Did I imagine that? I think it's a thing. And I was the car on the right. So I went.

Well! White Sedan must never had read that instruction manual! White Sedan came at me, and HONKED really loud and long. It seems to me that was a bit uncalled-for, what with White Sedan being in a position that would T-bone T-Hoe if he hadn't braked. Meaning I was already in the middle of the intersection by the time White Sedan came at me. Otherwise, White Sedan would have been slamming into my front bumper if he had been there first and I intruded.

I had nothing to prove. I was in no particular hurry. Had White Sedan already been rolling, or had squealed to a stop as if in a rush, I would have waited for White Sedan to go first.

Anyhoo... I got an earful of horn, and I'm not exactly sure why.

An Ugly Reared Head Worms Its Way In

Hick had a tale when he got home from his SUS2.5 Saturday evening.

"You'll never guess who come in my store this afternoon. BEV! She brought a gallon of paint, and said, 'Should I give this to you, or Old Buddy?' I was busy and didn't pay much attention to her. I said, 'Old Buddy, I guess.'"

"So you wouldn't even take the paint?"

"She said, 'I thought you might want to use it for one of your houses. Then said, 'Nick wants to know if you buy shotguns.' I said, 'Yeah. I buy shotguns.' I walked off. I had customers. She left, and Nick never come in."

"I KNEW you'd take them back! What's Old Buddy gonna do with it? You'll use that paint."

"Maybe."

"What color is it?"

"It's kills paint. To cover stains and stuff. So probably white."

"Dang it! You're letting them come crawling back, after how they treated you!"

"Well, I didn't pay her no attention. I was busy."

Hick was happy, though, despite the return of Bev. He had a good sales day.

"I got a good compliment from an old man today. He come in to buy some ammunition. He said he came to me because of my customer service. He could have gone somewhere else and got it cheaper, but he likes the way I treat people."

"Oh, no! God wouldn't like that! You're charging more for it than it's worth!"

"Heh, heh! That's what I should have told Bev: 'Yeah, I buy shotguns, but I won't buy one from you because I might charge too much when I sell it.' I didn't think of it at the time."

A Typical Mother's Day for Val

The day started like any other, with Hick sitting on the long couch before leaving around 6:00 a.m. I was on the short couch. But this day, Hick said, "Happy Mother's Day."

"Thank you."

"I seen you got a nice card yesterday from Genius."

"Yes. Right on time. Pony is bringing one on Tuesday, when we have our 'celebration' with Chinese food."

"When I cook them pork steaks?"

"No! I am NOT doing any cooking on Tuesday! It's my Mother's Day! You are cooking the pork steaks tonight. I'll bake the beans, and I've thawed out the hash brown casserole to have with it, too. So this will be three meals worth, for Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday. Tuesday is Chinese. I'm not doing anything but eating."

"Oh. Okay."

Of course we rescheduled Mother's Day for Hick to have his day of business Sunday at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). That was fine with me. All my days are pretty much the same.

Then started a discussion of the tests Hick had on Friday, to prepare for the surgery he had to postpone until August due to his x-rays of not-pneumonia and uncollapsed lung. It was a Transthoracic Echocardiogram Test. Which Hick referred to as a stress test. All I know is that he had three tests scheduled that day, spread out over three hours, to determine if he is sound for surgery.

"I couldn't believe the cost of that test! It was $17,000-something!"

"No, Val. It was $13,400."

"I don't know where you get that! I just looked at it yesterday when you gave me the receipt for the $150 copay. It was $17,000-something."

"Nooo. I looked at it when they handed it to me. It's $13,400."

"I'm so tired of you doing this to me! I looked right at it. Then I threw it in the trash. I don't really want to get up right now, but later I'm going to dig it out to prove it to you."

"I can go get it right now. On my way out. Where is it?"

"You'll never find it. You can't find anything! It's in the wastebasket. Come back over here and stand in front of me."

"I don't need to do that. I know where the wastebasket is."

"That's surprising! But you won't look in the right spot unless you're lined up like you're looking right at it. It's HERE! At about the 4:00 area. Folded in quarters like when you handed it to me."

"What are you gonna say when you see it's $13,400?"

"Nothing. Because I know it was $17,000-something."

Surprisingly enough, Hick found the discarded receipt. Even more surprising, he actually brought it to show me:

"Let me see!"

"Huh. I guess I read it wrong."

"Reading it wrong is not a big deal. It's how you always treat me like I DON'T KNOW NOTHIN', when I'm actually right, and you are just figuring I won't bother to check on your 'facts' that you use to prove me wrong. Maybe next time, you'll listen to me."

At 7:22, Hick must have been feeling guilty. He sent me a text.

"I'm sorry o didn't get you a card but I do love you happy mothers day." With a big emoji kind of picture with flowers that said Happy Mother's Day.

Never mind that Hick still has time to get me a real card by Tuesday. I'm pretty sure that's not gonna happen. It's no big deal to me if I get a card or gift. 

The best part about this Mother's Day is that I got VALidation.

There's a Pole and the Bucket

A few weeks ago, I parked in my rightful handicap space beside the Gas Station Chicken Store, and noticed something new. Some type of maintenance paraphernalia was in my path to the door. 

This is unlike Man Owner, to leave equipment lying around. I've often seen him sweeping up, or tossing out salt for a snow forecast, or taking trash to the dumpster. I can't imagine anything that would cause him to leave tools outside where a customer could trip and take a tumble and get an irreputable injury attorney to sue for his livelihood.

Of course I did not plan to lie down beside those items and holler, "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" That would be silly. Because I really CAN'T get up! I just took a picture, because I want to know what this is.

I walk by that post all the time, sometimes putting a hand on top to steady myself, like it's a complementary industrial cane put there just for my ambulatory needs. The top is sealed with concrete. I've never noticed any openings down the sides. Yet it looks like that hose might be attached.

Is this some kind of a hand-held pump? Does it pull something out of the pipe, and pump it into the bucket? Eww! Is is sewer? Is it a way to get water outside? Does it pull a sample from the gas tanks? 

I took the picture so I could ask Hick what's the purpose of this contraption. Yet I keep forgetting to ask Hick. He will not like being disturbed while he's at his SUS2.5. So I'll ask when he gets home.

____________________________________________________________________

Hick was stumped! Said he didn't know what this thing was. He's never seen anything like it. His best guess was that maybe Man Owner was using it to flush out the downspout on the corner of the building. Like the contraption might blow air up in the downspout to dislodge something blocking it. But it still doesn't explain the bucket. Unless he could suck water up in it, to blast out into the downspout. The bucket was empty when I walked by.

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Hick Rescues Another Elderly

Hick had another phone call this week. It was the daughter who had just moved her mother in. She had been paying for the apartment for two months, but just now moved. Daughter said the toilet was leaking. She had already left, but wanted Hick to know. 

Hick drove to town, and I delayed his supper. He got there, and the door was unlocked. He figured the Daughter had taken her mom somewhere. He knocked and nobody answered, so he went in. And saw a purse sitting there. He hollered, "I'm coming in." And the old lady said, "Just a minute. I'm getting out of the shower."

Hick went back out, startled, and waited for her to come to the door. He checked out the bathroom. Said the rubber seal between the tank and the toilet must have deteriorated with the toilet not being used for a while. It didn't leak continuously, but only when flushed. He went back the next day and replaced it.

Hick noticed that the woman didn't have any kitchen furniture.

"I have that table I used at the flip houses, for running my saw. And I have four chairs I got when the dentist office closed. So I got them and put them in. I called the Daughter, and said, 'If you don't want them, I'll take them out. But she has a table and chairs to eat at now.' The Daughter thanked me and said that was nice.

I feel so bad for some of these old people. It's like their family shoves them off and doesn't want to do anything. This one old lady was worried that her cashier's check wouldn't be good. She's been there a couple months, and has always paid on time. But she said that she called her bank, and the money wasn't in her account. I told her it's a cashier's check! They wouldn't have given it to her if she didn't have the money. It will be fine. She said she had called her daughter, worried about it, and the daughter said, 'You'll have to deal with it, Mom. I didn't have anything to do with it.' Which seems kind of mean. The lady was really worried."

Sometimes, I think you can't actually pay Hick what he's worth.

A Nice Gesture is Good for Business

The mail contained a strange tiny envelope on Monday. I saw a last name on the return address, which seemed familiar, though I couldn't place it. I figured it must be one of Hick's acquaintances. I knew I'd heard him say that name. Hick leaves all the mail for me to open. HEH, HEH! I am delirious with power! Of course HE trusts ME. It's not like I have MY OWN MONEY or anything...

Inside was a little card with a handwritten note:

_____________________________________________________________

Dear Hick, Val, & Pony,

I'm glad we finally got this one wrapped up! I appreciate your patience & the opportunity to help get it sold.

Please let me know if I can be of help again down the road. Enjoy a little shopping trip on me when Target opens!

Realtor Guy

______________________________________________________________

Inside the note was a gift card for Target, which is in the process of building a store over in Bill-Paying Town. I'm sure it would work for online ordering as well.

Wasn't that nice? A $50 gift card! (He wrote the amount on the back.) Even Hick was impressed. I'm pretty sure we'll be using Realtor Guy for our future flips, even without the paper forms ultimatum Hick had planned. Realtor Guy had honored the commission percentage given to us by our dear departed Realtor, and was always available for Hick's questions. We don't blame him for the Bargain House marathon. He was quick to get back to us as soon as he heard anything from the Buyer. Even late at night, and on Sundays.

Realtor Guy has good marketing sense.

A Burned Bridge and a Hicksplanation

Hick drove me to a leg appointment Tuesday afternoon. I'm not sure it will lead to an eventual knee replacement, but it's worth a try. I'd never been to this facility before. It's a 45-minute drive, and I didn't know how the parking would be. I hate to take Hick away from his busy unscheduled schedule, but he's handy for dropping me off at the door.

The good news was that there's parking right up against the building, so next time I can drive myself. The bad news is that my appointment took 90 minutes! Anyhoo... that's not the topic here today.

Hick was driving A-Cad, which has his phone in sync with the radio. We just got on the highway to home around 2:30 when a call came in. Hick can't see the tiny radio screen very well. He relies on me to tell him while he's driving, so he knows if he wants to answer, in which case I tap the screen.

"It's says 'Nick and Bev neighbors.' NOPE!"

"Yeah. No. I'm not answering that."

What goes around comes around, and now Nick and Bev can reap the harvest of their burned bridge. Hick did not get any further communication from them later. No text or other missed call. When it comes to their former loyal handyman Hick, they shall remain forever unhelped.

It was a rainy, dreary day. (As opposed to a rainy cheery day, or a sunny dreary day!) I had worn a hoodie, but I was still cold. The ride there wasn't bad. I had my heat control turned up to 75, and the warmth was blowing comfortably. The whole way home, I was freezing. I didn't look at the temperature dial until we were already at Mailbox Row.

"No wonder I'm freezing! You turned off the fan while I was inside! That 75 is just a number. There's no heat flowing in here!" I turned the dial about 1/4 of the way up. "NOW it can blow 75-degree air!"

Hick got out to go around for the mail. "No, Val." He gave one of his Hicksplaining chuckles. "It's just blowing regular air."

What in the NOT-HEAVEN is THAT supposed to mean??? There was most definitely warm air shooting out my vent now. Not "regular" 53-degree air from outside.

After that incident, I wasn't really sorry that Hick had to waste 90 minutes of my appointment time, plus the trips there and back.

Why Hick Is Not Allowed to Handle the Bookkeeping

Hick can do a lot of things, but accurate handling of our finances is not one of them. In fact, he is not allowed access to the checkbook. I rue the day that debit cards became a thing! Sometimes I get receipts. Sometimes I have to resort to interrogation concerning mystery charges as I try to reconcile the checkbook register through the bank's automated phone system. The Pony scoffs. WHO would actually try to balance a checkbook these days? The elderlies, that's who!

Hick writes down his expenditures on scraps of paper. I'm lucky that he has a legal pad to record expenses for the flip houses. I can usually decipher them, and get one at the end of each month, with variable amounts of prodding. Now Hick has the senior apartments to deal with. He's quick to whip out our debit card and Lowe's card to purchase materials. Then he gets reimbursed by the nonprofit agency that operates the apartments. He gives them the receipts. I am left to untangle those expenses from the flip expenses and our household charges.

Hick gave me a note Monday evening, before going to bed. How convenient, avoiding an imminent interrogation.

He tossed it on the table, and said, "I'll pay us in cash, so you don't have to go to the bank this week. And I'll need a check by Friday." Referring to our weekly cash allowance, for spending and squirrelling away in a safe for future bills like insurance and Christmas and incidentals like road gravel and new used trailers. I wasn't sure about the check, because sometimes it's for Mick the Mechanic, or a glass guy, or a roofing guy.

Well. No way was I going to record this in my checkbook register without a deposit slip. I can't trust Hick on amounts. He rounds off, or transposes numbers. Lucky for me, I found the deposit slip tucked inside this folded paper the note was written on. The deposit was actually $2450.06, which was his slightly over $300/month salary, plus expenses for renovating an apartment. Not that anybody could tell from this note. Which you might be marveling over yourself, as I did upon first glance.

Weed check. WEED check??? 

What in the Not-Heaven? Who buys weed with a check? Even in a state where it's legal, as ours is now. Hick can't have weed! He would lose his federal license to sell him most profitable merchandise. Not even weed cream to help his arthritis in his metal plate upper spine and cadaver bone lower spine. What's this about a WEED check? I asked him the next morning.

"WEED check? What are you talking about?"

"Your note. And that is NOT the amount of your deposit."

"Val. It says I need a check. That's the amount for my rent on my storage units for six months. Then the amount that I gave us in our account after I took off the $729.30 for the water heater that busted at the apartments. And the $781.24 is what I still owe us after you give me my rent check. So I'm giving us cash for that, and you won't have to take money out of the bank this week."

"Well. Excuse me for not understanding that from what you've written on your note."

Confused? Welcome to MY world! As the unpaid bookkeeper for Hick's assorted business ventures. At least he's not asking for a check to buy weed.

The Universe is Such a Trickster

Bargain House is a done deal. Sold. Money in the bank. Utilities disconnected. Just a couple of final bills and refunds remaining. Lap House is bought and paid for, in our full possession, just waiting for Hick to decide to start working on it. So of course The Universe needs a chuckle.

Remember Cheap House? The foreclosure in a really nice location, that we'd (at least two of us) been hoping to acquire since September 2025? Our firm offer of $15,000 was approved by the Savings & Loan that repossessed it. But the transaction kept dragging out. Turns out during the title search there were additional judgments against that house for over $17,000! At the end of January, Loan Officer told Hick, after much waiting and several inquiries, that the Savings & Loan was required to auction that property on the courthouse steps.

The Pony and I were not really on board with still getting it. So many problems made us feel like this was not the house for us. Two-thirds rule in this flipping partnership, you know.

Hick got a call last week. The courthouse auction will be next week. Hick still wants to go and bid. The Pony is okay with this now, as long as Hick does not go over our original offer. Dang that two-thirds rule!

Hick went back to look at Cheap House.

"Everything is gone out of it! The lock me and that lady put on the shed is gone, and the shed is empty."

"Well. Then that $2000 you promised her off the books for the contents is not a thing anymore."

"That's for sure. Who knows if it was her who took it. I doubt it. Probably the bank. Now that I looked at the house again, I think I wouldn't offer no more than $10,000 for it. I'd fix the hole in the floor, and stuff like that. Then we sell it to a flipper."

"Yeah. There's nothing to flip under $50,000 lately. You're lucky to find THAT! And it's usually a hoarder house, falling apart."

"We wouldn't turn on the utilities or nothin'. Just get it cleaned up and list it as a flip."

"Somebody else might bid more at the auction. But they probably won't have seen inside, since it's locked up, and you only got in because that lady was there when you went by the first time."

"Yeah. Somebody might bid more. But I won't go over."

This is not exactly what I wanted right now. Hick has too many other distractions, with his business and his harem of elderlies and Lap House. At least he won't be doing side work for Nick and Bev anymore! Since Hick and The Pony are in agreement, my one-third opinion doesn't matter. Hick will go to the auction.

We need Cheap House like a hole in the floor...

The Discontinuing Adventures of Nick and Bev

Every now and then, I share a tale of Nick and Bev, our former Backcreek Neighbors. We've known them for at least 10 years, though I probably wouldn't recognize them on sight. About five years ago, they moved to the middler of nowhere. 

Hick has always been the one who communicates with them, as they use him as their personal handyman. They pay for his services. Hick usually puts them ahead of other jobs, and is willing to wait for payment if they ask to delay it until payday. I think the last time I wrote about them, Hick was on his way to do work on their house, but turned around to pick up Nick and give him a ride, since he had left his car in the shop, and said he was walking 26 miles home along hilly curvy blacktop county roads.

Anyhoo... the latest news is that Nick and Bev are moving to Israel. It seemed kind of an odd decision to me, but considering it's Nick and Bev, it really wasn't surprising. I don't know their reason. It's not my business. As The Pony replied when I told him this tale, "Huh. That's not really a safe area right now." My thoughts exactly. 

I don't know if it's religious, or business, or just a whim. They are Seventh Day Adventists, which I know because early on, Hick would say, "I won't have time until Sunday." And Bev would say, "No. That's my Sabbath. Can you do it on Sunday?" Which for some reason gives me a chuckle, though more of an insight into Bev's manner of thinking. As for it being a job opportunity, they are both retired military. Rick has been doing some kind of government work, which is in the technical field. Again, not my business. I'm just curious about why they chose that area to relocate.

Anyhoo... I came home last Sunday, and Hick was sitting at the cutting block counting his money from the SUS2.5. He didn't seem like his usual jovial, overbearing self.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I got called a USURY today! By Bev!" [Turns out it was Nick.]

"I'm somewhat familiar with the term. I don't think it's a NAME you call people. It's biblical. Like you're cheating somebody."

"I had to look it up on my phone! They was textin' me."

I could tell Hick had hurt feelings. That's MY job! Nobody else better be saying anything mean to my Hick! What in the Not-Heaven was going on? Of course Hick is not one to hold things in.

"You know Rick and Bev are moving to Israel. They're selling all their stuff to get money for the move. They asked if I could sell a log-splitter and air conditioner and tiller for them at my store. I said yeah, and they said they'd pay me 10% of what I sold.

Bev wanted $750 for the log-splitter. I told her a brand new one would go for that in a store, but hers is used and don't even work. So we agreed on $300. I bought it from them right there, because I have a small-engine guy who I think can fix it, and I can still make money on it.

They wanted $400 for the air conditioner. I called an old guy at the apartments, and he bought it for $400.

The tiller works. Bev said she'd take $350 for it. Her and Nick went walkin' around, lookin' at other stuff at the flea market. I thought that tiller would bring more, so I put $500 on it. A while later, Nick and Bev was talkin' to one of my buddies and mentioned they had me selling their tiller. He said something about he saw it, for $500.

Bev started texting me that she only wanted $350 for the tiller. That I was trying to make a 40% profit, when we had agreed on 10%. I texted back that even if I sold all three things, including the tiller at $500, that I would only be making a 14.2% profit. [No idea how either of them arrived at these figures, so no need for innernet mathies to correct me!] 

I was only trying to get them more money for their move. If the tiller didn't sell, I would have bought it from them myself. I knew I could sell it, even if not by the end of the day.

Then Nick starts textin' me. He said, "That's usury! God wouldn't want that." I told him I was just trying to get them more money, but if he didn't want me to sell his tiller, he could come get it. So he did. Just picked it up and left."

"Did they pay you the 10% for the wood-splitter and air conditioner?"

"NO! They didn't give me a penny!"

Heh, heh. I guess God would have been fine with THAT, reneging on a deal that was already made.

"Well. That's sad. But if I was you, I don't think I'd be answering any of their calls or texts. They can find somebody else to help them out before they move."

"Yep. I ain't answerin' nothin' from either one of 'em."

It's not the little bit of money from that 10% Hick didn't get. That's nothing to him. His feelings are hurt. He doesn't cheat people. He thought Nick and Bev were his friends. He's bent over backwards to help them, and they in turn have given him stuff over the years. Like their old flooring that he used in one of the flip houses, and wood from their deck. Hick didn't understand their anger towards him, over what he thought was doing them a favor. In the very least, Bev could have just said, "Put the tiller back at $350."

I bear Nick and Bev no ill will. I wish them safe travels and an uneventful life as they settle in Israel. But that's it. Nothing extravagant. My heart has hardened a bit. They should have treated Hick better.

Friday Night. You Know What THAT Means.

I was a bit late getting to town, and arrived home at 5:10 on Friday. Standing at the kitchen door, doling out a slice of bacon to Pepper and Jack, I heard Hick's phone ring. I was lecturing the dogs on manners. Specifically Pepper, who has an off-putting habit of dropping his own treat to the porch, and lunging to try and steal Jack's from his jaws. 

I could hear the tone of Hick's voice, but not the actual half of his conversation. It sounded like he was a bit stand-offish. Polite, yet distant. Like when he gets calls for his business, to confirm or deny a buyer's application. The call didn't last long.

"What was that all about?"

"Just one of my gals from the apartments. She told me she came to my store today, but I wasn't there. I told her I'm only there a half day on Fridays. Then she said she put her check in the box at my office. I told her that's what she's supposed to do."

"Of course she called! It's FRIDAY NIGHT! Is that the one who likes to drink? Who always calls you on Friday nights? The one who got arrested and called you from jail?"

"No. This was another one."

I really need to start learning the names of Hick's Harem.

Reuben Is Not Himself

This not-pneumonia is living rent-free in my nasal cavities! As I type this, it's the 9th day of my Hick-credited malady, and I still have not regained smell or taste. My estranged BFF Google says it might take up to two weeks! That's due to inflammation and swelling in the sinuses, preventing the molecules from lodging on the little patch where they are recognized by the brain. I might as well start chomping on onions and pretending they're apples.

Even though I didn't have Hick bring me a Reuben Sandwich from the Senior Center on Thursday, I DID have the pleasure of re-warming his. That's when I noticed that Reuben was not himself. He seemed different. Not as different as Becky on the Roseanne show, who seemed to turn into a different person during the middle few seasons. But not the old Reuben I had been accustomed to month after month.

I take the bread off the Reubens and put the slices in the oven to crisp them up again. I set the meat with the cheese, sauerkraut, and orange dressing aside, then add it to the foiled pizza pan holding the bread at the last minute. I don't know if they use Russian or Thousand Island Dressing on the Reubens, but it's always just pale orange. The bread was the same, that delicious marble rye. The beef was the wafered kind that comes in a packet, perhaps Buddig brand, at the store. Sauerkraut is sauerkraut, shredded.

WHAT was I noticing? Maybe too much dressing? The top looked extra gooey. Wait! What was THAT? I have a sneaking suspicion that some recycling was done with the Reubens. It looked like maybe a bit of NACHO CHEESE had been added! The white cheese slice was still next to the meat. But on top, with the dressing and sauerkraut, was extra gooey orangeness. With flecks of red and green! About the size of a large-grade glitter. To me, it looked like a fine dice of red and green peppers that might be in liquid nacho cheese. I pointed it out to Hick, who had no idea, and didn't care, having already eaten an entire Reuben at lunch without noticing.

Unable to smell or taste, I could not determine the origin of this change in Reuben. Though it did not escape my attention that two days previous, on Tuesday, the menu was "Taco-ish Tuesday," with a Chicken Tortilla Bowl as the main course. Perhaps they had some canned nacho cheese left over...

Hick actually brought home 2.5 Reubens! I thought that was so sweet, Hick knowing how much I love Reuben, and making sure there was one for me, just in case my taste suddenly returned before supper. As in Coyote Ugly, when Rachel told boss Lil, "Let's not start polishing a Grammy," in reference to Violet singing on the bar... I will advise you not to confuse Hick with Mother Teresa in his Reuben-bringing. 

"[Elderly 1] didn't want hers. And [Elderly 2] could only eat half. So I brung theirs home, too. You can have one if you want."

I would have had no shame taking one and devouring it. If only I could have tasted it. So I left them all for Hick. He had one Thursday night, planning for the 1.5 on Friday night.

I remain ever-hopeful that my smell-and-taste return is imminent. They're probably hiking along the gravel road right now, their kits-n-caboodles bound up in red handkerchiefs tied at the end of sticks, whistling a little tune, about to take a shortcut through the BARn field to be reunited with me by suppertime.

The new jar of Vicks VapoRub that I'm wafting under my nose says different.

Val Rebuffs Reuben!

In an earthshattering move of uncharacteristic behavior, Val has turned her back on Reuben! I join you in disbelief. I never saw this coming! For four weeks, I have been watching the menu from the Senior Center. I KNEW that Thursday was Reuben Day. Even though they changed the menu listing. Soup is not the headliner any more. I guess this is the summer menu.

Grilled Reuben

OR Cheeseburger Wrap

Macaroni Salad

Sweet & Sour Beets

Brownies OR Fruit

I don't know what kind of miscreant could possibly choose a Cheeseburger Wrap over a Reuben Sandwich. The rest of the menu doesn't actually call out EAT ME to Val. But that's not the reason I told Hick to NOT bring a Reuben home for me.

"I know tomorrow is Reuben Day, but I don't want one. Don't bring me a sandwich. I'm still getting over your not-pneumonia, and I can't taste anything. No need to get me a Reuben."

"It ain't no problem. I'll probably bring one home for my supper. I can get you one."

"No. It will be bad enough warming up YOUR Reuben. I'm not making that effort when I can't even taste it. I'll just have some soup."

Yes. Reuben is handled with care. His innards are separated from his outtards. The bread gets re-toasted in the oven. Then the meat with cheese and sauerkraut/dressing is slid onto the pan at the last minute, to get a little melt on the cheese again. Then I reconstruct Reuben, and slice him in half diagonally. The sides are just microwaved if needed.

I'm sure Hick will enjoy his Reuben. I will be sad about not having one. But I would be sadder if I ate a tasteless Reuben.