The FREEbie Magnet Pulls in More Treasure

The Pony and I need to keep close tabs on Hick, lest he fill up Lap House with FREEbies. The Viking gas stove from the rich guy's kitchen renovation is there now. And a few days ago, I found out Hick scored some more flip-worthy goods.

"There's this lady who eats lunch at the Senior Center. She said she had some paint that she wasn't going to use, and did I want it." [We all know that answer to that!]

"One of your Harem?"

"No. Just a lady."

"Why would she ask YOU if you wanted it?"

"She knows I do work like that. Her brother and sister-in-law gave her a bunch of paint about three years ago, thinking she would use it to have her house painted, inside and out. Her house really does need paint. The siding is dried out. It's not a money thing. She just don't want to deal with it. She said I could have it, if I'd come get it, just to get it out of her house."

"What color?"

"White. It's a LOT of paint. Way more than she would need. There are six 5-gallon buckets of paint! Only one of them had been opened. There wasn't much gone at all. Those buckets go for $250 to $280. So that's about $1500 worth of paint."

"Can you use it on the flip houses?"

"Yeah. There's plenty for more than two flip houses. I've got it in Lap House, so it don't get affected by the weather."

I hope Hick doesn't plan on buying more flip houses right now, just to use that paint!

The Pony is Hick's FREE-Loader

On my way to pick up The Pony last Thursday for Errand Day, I passed by the Beauty Shop. You know, the little house that was part of our Double Hovel flip. It's street is a shortcut to The Pony's house. Of course I always look at it, and silently (or not) berate the new owner for turning that cute little house into a workshop. It has looked the same since we sold it. Just unoccupied. So I've held out hope that he'd leave the little house alone. The hope was dashed on Thursday.

Sitting out front on the wooden handrail by the sidewalk was an object. At first, I thought it was the base of an old computer. Really old. Like maybe from an Apple 2e. Or an old dot-matrix printer. It was that same shade of tan. Maybe I should get new glasses. Or at least wear them when I'm driving.

Anyhoo, as I went by, I saw a sign on the object. FREE! 

By the time I had The Pony riding shotgun, on our way to Walmart, I realized what it was.

"Pony. I think there's a FREE range hood over at the Beauty Shop. We're going that way. Let's go by and make sure. I guess that guy is actually tearing out stuff to make his workshop. I wonder if Dad would want it. Text him and see."

The Pony did, and got an immediate response. "Sure. It's probably the one I just put in."

The object was still there, and it WAS a range hood. The Pony hopped out and got it. Put it in T-Hoe's rear. This family can't leave a perfectly good range hood sit around for somebody else to snatch!

Once home, I told Hick to get his range hood and put it somewhere else. He chose the back of the Gator, along with a bunch of other junk that I'm pretty sure was not FREE.

"It's brand new! The one I put in the Beauty Shop. I'll find somewhere to use it."

Hick and The Pony. The FREEbie Magnet and the FREE-Loader.

A Colorful Blast From Hick's Past

As The Pony and I were leaving Country Mart a couple weeks ago, a vehicle pulled in.

"I'm getting a picture of that for your dad. It looks like the kind of truck he had when we first met. Except the bed of this one is longer. But his was all different colors, too. The people at the pool would see him drive in on the weekend, after he'd picked up HOS and The (little future) Veteran. They'd say, 'Here comes Sandford and sons!'"

I wasn't sure of the year. I thought it was a 1965. I was right! Except Hick said his didn't have that roof shelf thingy sticking out, and he had a full back window, not the little one.

There's the long bed. Hick's version had a short bed. Which I suppose was just a regular bed. Hick's was darker in color. I can't really describe it. A lot of rust and red and dark blue, I think.

Anyhoo... this was back when I first met Hick. I lived in a townhouse apartment, and Hick lived across the parking lot in a regular 1-bedroom ground floor apartment. We met at the pool. When Hick started driving me around in his truck, he said he was planning on getting it painted. An Earl Scheib special ($29.95), he said! Money was tight then, as he had just been divorced less than a year.

Anyhoo... Hick had some spray paint, and painted only the passenger door. Just for me, he said. The top around the window was white, like this one in the picture. And the bottom of the door was royal blue. Only the best for Hick's new woman, heh, heh!

Anyhoo... I showed Hick these pictures of the truck, and he said:

"Oh, I know that truck. The lady who drives it delivers meals for the Senior Center."

Well. Not that day. A man got out of this truck.

The Pony liked the story of his dad painting the truck door just for me.

If a Tree Falls in the Woods, We Don't Hear the Sound

Hick's squirrel-hunting buddy was out here last week. His differently-abled brother comes along, and hunts from the tailgate of their truck parked in our driveway. Sometimes he will sit on the edge of the carport. They know how to hunt. Know their background. We're not in any danger of stray shots.

Anyhoo, the buddy walked down to the creek, toward the area of Hick's creekside cabin. There's no actual road, but a wide path where we've always driven the 4-wheelers or the Gator and the Scout. I don't drive them, but I was the passenger of a tweenage Genius many a time, white-knuckling my way down that boulder-strewn, leaf-covered path, holding on for dear life as the Gator pitched to and fro. 

Anyhoo... when Hick talked to the buddy later that day, he was told: "You're lucky you still have a cabin left! There are a couple trees down. I don't think you can drive down your road."

Hick made a trip on the Gator to investigate on Wednesday evening.

"Can't get to the cabin."

That's a pretty big tree. You have to look close to see the cabin on the other side.

There's the side view. The front door and porch face towards the creek. Hick can get there on foot now, but has to park the Gator and go around the tree. Looks like a job for HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) and a chainsaw. HOS can even sell the wood.

We figure this happened in the storm that knocked out our electricity for 13 hours. The trees behind the house were swirling that evening. We sit on top of a hill. This fallen tree is way down in the woods, surrounded by other trees to slow the wind, and down in a gully. I suppose it got swirled just right. Or wrong.

Festival Parking

At a concert, it's called Festival Seating. You can sit where you want. Some people in Backroads believe this concept also applies to parking. There's a guy who frequents the Gas Station Chicken Store who does this often.

I was parked in my rightful handicap space. There was a truck in front of me at the FREE AIR space. It's not designated for the FREE AIR hose, just has lines denoting a parking space. The maroon truck was there when I arrived. It had a handicap placard, but I suppose the guy needed air in his tires, or the lone handicap space had been occupied at that time.

Anyhoo... here's how we were situated:

Maroon Truck was within the lines of his parking space, and I was within the lines of mine. I had just gotten in with my scratchers, preparing to write on the back of them so I know where they came from in case I have a good winner. That's when Festival Parker arrived.

Festival Parker is a guy in a white SUV who parks BESIDE the handicap space. I've even seen him park there when the handicap space is open. It's not like he needs the handicap space. No designated plate or placard, and no visible signs of different-abledness. This day, he must have just come from work. He was wearing a neon yellow vest of the sort worn by people who work outside and want to avoid being run over. So was the passenger in his white SUV.

You can barely see Festival Parker's passenger here. It's not his fault. I didn't try to get his picture. The guy in the white truck is innocent. He was just squeezing by along the diesel pumps, to exit out the back alley. Festival Parker was blocking the driving lane. And also blocking me in.

My only way out was to back up. Which doesn't sound hard, but this is at the corner of the building. I'd be backing across the where two lanes exit the gas pumps, and people (like Festival Parker or diesel customers) come walking across after doing their business inside. T-Hoe's backup beeper doesn't work. So I have to keep my head on a swivel to keep from killing somebody.

Sometimes, I wish I could conceal-carry those tire-puncturing strips. Just for fun.

The Harem is Still Kickin'

I had just finished typing up yesterday's tale of the laundry room invader when Hick came in from mowing the front yard/field.

"I have to go back to town. One of the ladies is locked out of her apartment."

"What's the rush? Isn't there a key box for that?"

"It's her door. She says she has her key, but it won't unlock. It just keeps turning, but won't let her in. So I need to go see about it. She's sitting outside."

"Well, it's 70 degrees. She's probably fine."

"Yeah. There's a nice little outdoor area for them. But I don't want her unable to get into her apartment."

Of course no complaint from one of Hick's Harem is ever as it seems. They conveniently or inconveniently or obliviously leave out certain details. Which I discovered later that evening when Hick returned.

"So how did you fix her lock? Put on a new doorknob? Was the lock messed up, or what?"

"No. She wasn't strong enough. It was the deadbolt. She had the key in her hand. She'd turn it left to unlock, but that's what locks it. So then she'd turn it right, but there's a catch in it. She couldn't turn it hard enough. I put the key in and it worked first time. But she couldn't. So I fixed it so it didn't catch."

That  call was on Wednesday. We'll see if it can carry over into a Harem-free Friday.

More Harem Hijinx

Shockingly enough, there were no phone calls on Friday night from Hick's Harem! Not even the gal with the dog who needed his shot record for moving at the first of next month, even though she isn't moving until the END of next month because she made a clerical error with HUD. 

Don't let that missing phone call lull you into a false sense of complacency. A new issue has arisen. I called Hick on Wednesday, shortly after noon, about collar-training our roaming doggy, Pepper, and about his squirrel-hunting buddy roaming our acreage.

"What are you doing right now?"

"I'm at the apartments, putting signs in the laundry room. Somebody complained that they saw a woman bringing in laundry. It's happened a couple times. I think it's one of the gal's granddaughter. And there's a bunch of clothes laying around. A BUNCH of clothes."

"Well, you can't prove that they're hers."

"It's got a bunch of kids' clothes in it! They're all over the place."

"You should lock them up in your office!"

"I need to throw them away."

"NO! Don't throw anybody's clothes away! They're already trying to do their laundry for free. They can't afford new clothes."

"Yeah. I guess not."

"This way, she'll have to ASK for the clothes. So you know for sure it's her, and you can tell her you thought maybe some homeless person got in, and it's not a public laundry. That you almost threw the clothes away. Then she'll get the message that she shouldn't come back."

"My signs all say LAUNDRY IS FOR TENANTS ONLY. I have three signs on each floor's laundry room. One on the door, one above the washer, and one on the window by the dryer."

"What if she keeps doing it? What will you tell her grandma?"

"I'll tell her she can't let anybody else use the laundry, and if it happens again, she'll need to find somewhere else to live, because that's not allowed."

I can understand why the other residents don't want a granddaughter using their laundry room. She takes up the washer and dryer and all the space, when they might want to rightfully do their free laundry that's a perk of living in the apartments.

Now I'm curious how this story will end.

My Deep Cover Agent Brings Word of a Betrayal

Hick has stored the rich guy cabinets at Cheap House. I asked about that, because we have a BARn and a Freight Container Garage that SHOULD have room to store such items. Unless, of course, Hick has junked them up with his hoarder stuff. I'm pretty sure that the BARn is full. And probably the FCG as well.

"Why are you putting that kitchen stuff in Cheap House?"

"Because the trailer was just down the street, and it was easy to unload them there."

I accepted this excuse. The stove is supposed to be installed at Lap House, which is only a couple miles away. I still don't know exactly where the stove is. But I thought maybe it could have been in the way of the guy hired for $1000 to build some walls there. I suppose he is done. Hick sent some pictures.

That's a story for another day.

Here are the cabinets that came out of the rich guy's kitchen:

The plan is to use the cabinets in our flip house(s). There are too many for just one flip house.

In telling The Pony about the hired walls being done in Lap House, I unearthed a nugget of information. Which might explain Hick's snippiness on Sunday when I asked about the storage of the kitchen items.

"Maybe now that the walls are up, Dad can get to work and get Lap House done and listed."

"He supposedly only has a couple walls to put up in Cheap House, and then it can go on the market."

"Well, he really wants to finish that one, too."

"WHAT? I KNEW he'd pull this! That was not the deal!"

"Well, when he drove me home last night after training the dog, he said he thinks another $10,000 will get Cheap House finished. And then we could ask $100,000-something, instead of just selling it to a flipper."

"For only $10,000? It needs an HVAC system! And kitchen appliances, and bathroom stuff, and flooring! Plus labor! I can't imagine that would only cost $10,000."

So... Hick has been keeping this plan from me, while telling The Pony, who is not crazy about it, because of the money going out before any money comes in.

Hick and I need to have a "discussion" about our flipping partnership with The Pony. I don't think ONE is a majority.

Fetching the Bargain Kitchen

Remember the rich guy Hick was buying memorabilia from? Who promised Hick that he could have the old kitchen when his new kitchen was installed? That installation has been happening. Hick was supposed to fetch the cabinets and stuff this weekend. The original deal was that Hick could have it for free, just to haul it off. The revised deal (because the rich guy's wife objected) was for Hick to pay $400-$500 for the privilege of hauling off the old kitchen. He has not yet paid, so I hope this price sticks!

Anyhoo... Hick couldn't wouldn't leave his precious SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) to pick up his "new" kitchen. He knew it would take him several trips. He didn't want to go on Friday, when he leaves the SUS2.5 at noon. Not driving a trailer to the city on Friday evening!

As usual, Hick fell back-rumpusward into luck. A buddy from the flea market offered to drive his trailer there as well, and help with loading, as long as Hick paid for his gas. DEAL! Hick also took HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) with him, and a young kid from the flea market who does odd jobs. 

They left on Saturday at 3:30. It's about a 2-hour drive from the SUS2.5 to the guy's house. They loaded two trailers (good thing Hick just spent $300 for a set of new tires on his trailer) and brought the kitchen stuff back to the town where Cheap House sits. Hick parked his trailer in the buddy's brother's driveway overnight, because it was just down the street from Cheap House. Then went back with HOS to unload it on Sunday evening.

They didn't get everything. Another trip to the city is required, because the remodelers weren't done tearing out all of the kitchen. But Hick got cabinets, a stove, a countertop, and a big piece of granite that weighs 900 pounds that he doesn't know what he'll do with.

So far, there's only a picture of the stove:

Hick plans to put this stove in Lap House. I'm not sure if that's where the picture is from. He might have just stored it in Cheap House for now, because it was so close to where he left the trailer.

Anyhoo... Hick was shocked at the value of this stove.

"I had no idea what that stove is worth. It's a Viking. I looked it up online, and a new one is $5000! I knew it was a good stove when I seen that the burners were cast iron, and not just metal like a regular burner."

Heh, heh. That stove might be worth more than the house. Anyhoo... Lap House already has gas service, so it won't be any problem to hook up a gas stove there.

I'll show more of the kitchen loot when Hick takes more pictures. 

I Deny Responsibility!

We came out of Country Mart on Thursday, and The Pony stopped by T-Hoe's left front bumper.

"What's this?"

"I don't know! Where did THAT come from? I haven't hit anything! Dad might say my memory's going, but surely I'd remember hitting something! It can't have been there long. It's all powdery. So it's been since the last rain. I haven't noticed it when I walk by in the garage."

"Is it paint?"

"I can't tell. And look where it is. That's up on TOP of the bumper. If I'd hit something, it would be scraped all along the side, not up on top. There's just a little couple of scuffs down on the side. If I'd hit the door of the garage going in or out, only the side would be scraped. Not the top. This reminds me of how a car's back door could open over it. You know. Like the curved part of the door that goes around the wheel. And when the door opens, it could scrape the top of the bumper. But I can't imagine a car parked at an angle to do that with a back door. Besides, I always park with this side giving me plenty of room to open my own door."

"Yeah. I don't know how only the top is scraped."

"Unless maybe it was a cart. If somebody got too close, and a cart scraped over the top of the bumper."

When I got home, I made Hick come out and look. He rubbed at it with his hand. Some of the powdery stuff came off. [The pictures were the next day, as I came out of our credit union, and had the opportunity to take them in the sunlight. So some of the mark is gone already.]

"Huh. I don't know what that came from. But it looks like it would buff right out."

Why is nobody else concerned with solving this mystery??? I refuse to take the fall! If I'm going to hit something, the laws of physics will apply to my damage!

My best guess is either somebody with a beeper cart driving into T-Hoe at 10Box, or somebody trying to squeeze a cart between T-Hoe and the cart return at Save A Lot.

At least it wasn't me...

I See It as a Discount That Was Meant to Be

Last week, The Pony did not accompany me on Errand Day. I only had a couple items to get at Country Mart, those being bananas and apples and bread. I could get them cheaper at 10Box, but can't find those apples there. They are Sugar Bee apples. That's what the stickers say, anyway. They're a sweet, crisp red apple. Hick also likes them, and takes them in his lunch to the SUS2.5 on the weekends.

I was shocked to see my receipt when I got back to T-Hoe. It seemed like a high total for such a few items. When I looked at the apple price, it was over $16!!! For a bag of 10 apples! I was fuming during the ride home, wondering if the young man checker had overcharged me.

Once home, I put that bag of apples on the scale. It weighed 3.8 pounds. I had not noticed the price of the produce. I usually just get what's on my list because that's what I want. I'm not looking for bargains on the produce. I thought all the apples had signs for something around $3.00/pound. I complained to Hick about the apples costing over $16.

"Huh. That DOES seem like a lot. But they're good apples."

"They're Sugar Bee apples. I can't find them anywhere else."

Hick started Googling on his phone.

"Well no wonder. It says here that they're $9.99 a pound at Target!"

"WHAT? I'm sure they're not that much at Country Mart. Let me get the receipt. Huh. It says I got 3.89 pounds, and they're $4.36 a pound. So that's about right. I just never realized they were that expensive. But at least it's not $9.99 a pound!"

I went back to Country Mart this week to get more apples. I saw a new kind. Cosmic Crisp. They were also a red apple, but a little bigger than the Sugar Bee. There were only five in a bag. I wanted to try them. But still got Hick a bag of the Sugar Bee. 

The Pony was with me this time, and checked out first. I set my items on the conveyor. I put the Cosmic Crisp apples first. Then the Sugar Bee. Then my other stuff. I didn't want the checker putting bags of apples on top of my bread. The checkers here don't have much common sense. Several are not even 21 yet, and have to call for elders to ring up alcohol.

Indeed, this young gal had to pick up the produce chart (a laminated strip with pictures) to see what she was ringing up. You'd think she'd never seen an apple before! The stickers were on EACH APPLE. She could have looked at them and known what she was ringing up.

Both were sold in clear plastic tote bags, open at the top with two loop handles. Easy to see, easy to scan a bar code.

Anyhoo... she set the first bag, the Cosmic Crisps, on the scale. Picked up her picture chart. Then tapped in the item. As she was setting the Sugar Bees on the scale, I said,

"I have two different kinds of apples--"

"How is your day going? Oh. Sorry. What was that?" She said as she tapped in the newly-weighed Sugar Bees.

"Never mind. I'm having a good day." 

On the way to the car, I told The Pony, 

"I have no idea how she rang up these apples. I was trying to tell her that I had two kinds, so she could charge me the right prices. But she had already put them in the register, and I didn't want to wait for somebody to come clear it." 

The Pony didn't shame me on this one. "Hey, you tried to tell her."

When I looked at the receipt, I was REALLY having a good day! She had charged me for GALA APPLES! Both bags. Which are only $1.78/pound!

I really like them apples!

More Hick Duty-Shirking

When I brought The Pony out for our Labor Day cookout, we both noticed an odd smell in the garage. It was quite strong. I attributed it to Hick. Not that he emits a strong odor, but that I figured he must have sprayed something in the garage. 

Hick mixes up weed-killer and treats his toe-catching uneven brick sidewalk that adjoins the concrete sidewalk to the garage door. And he'd just recently said he was finding dead mice in the garage. Though why he would spray for weeds in a garage, or spray to kill already-dead mice, I can't explain. Other than he's Hick.

A couple days ago, Hick came out to the garage to carry in some light groceries. He's been certified for lifting by his surgeon after a follow-up appointment.

"Oh, that smell you and Pony complained about? It's the gas in the generator turning into turpentine."

Well. Isn't that a fine kettle of fish! We had that power outage recently, and even IF we had known there would be 13 hours without electricity, Hick could not have started up our generator anyway! 

You'd think that Hick would be using his spare time to drain out that bad gas and get the generator in working condition. You know, just in case we have another power outage.

Nope. I guess he's too busy eating Harem cake.

Hick's Harem Takes the Cake

That title is figuratively speaking. To be technically correct, Hick's Harem literally GAVE the cake! Hick came through the kitchen door with it on Wednesday evening, right after I had typed that previous last line about how Hick would adjust his schedule to help the Harem, but not to help ME. Well. Of course he would! He's not going to be getting a cake from me.

I don't know what special occasion justified this cake. I'll have to do some interrogation when Hick gets home. He didn't say much about it.

"Look what my 'Harem,' as you call them, gave me today!"

"Dang! That's like a whole cake!"

"I wasn't gonna take it, but I thought, no, that might be rude. They made it and wanted me to have it, so I took it."

"It looks DELICIOUS! But I thought you didn't like coconut."

"I don't. But it supposedly has pineapple in it, too. I'll have some tonight after supper."

Well. I can't compete with that cake. Even though I fried half a pound of bacon for bacon and tomato sandwiches for Hick's supper, along with chips and homemade dip.

Hick put his cake on the bottom shelf of FRIG II. The only open space. Just like that. On the plate. I said it would get stale, but he said it would be fine. Hick would gladly share some of his Harem cake with me, but I don't need it. It's not on my "cutting back" menu.

I admit that later in the evening, I used my pinky finger to steal that large crumb, and a swipe of fallen-off icing. It tasted like ambrosia. Enough is almost as good as a feast. I'll leave the feasting for Hick. Who ate half of one piece for dessert.

Hick Breaks a T-Hoe Promise

For several months, T-Hoe has had a problem. At first I thought it was a gas station problem. I cannot put the gas nozzle in and click that lever to let the tank fill up. I CAN, but it shuts itself off after a couple of seconds. Same thing when I squeeze the handle gently. A few glugs of gas go in, but then it shuts off.

I told Hick about the problem. He said the same thing happens with him at Casey's in Backroads. I get T-Hoe's gas at the Casey's over in Sis-Town. The Pony is often with me for refueling on Errand Days. Said it looks like the problem is older gas pumps, or something with a vent valve thingy in T-Hoe. Which means SilverRedO is having the same issue. That would not surprise me. T-Hoe is a 2008, and SilverRedO is a 2012. They get driven on our gravel road every day. I'm sure all that dust can exact a toll.

Anyhoo... Hick had finally told me that he was making an appointment for Thursday morning to get T-Hoe fixed. I reminded him that T-Hoe has also been needing an oil change through most of this year. And his solution has been to add a couple of quarts here and there.

I was really excited. T-Hoe would be fixed Thursday morning, and I could get gas with ease on Thursday afternoon. No more taking 15 minutes to pump in $40 of gas. I sure don't have time to pump a FULL TANK, heh, heh. I'm just topping off every week.

Anyhoo... Tuesday evening, Hick said that he can't get T-Hoe fixed on Thursday morning.

"I told Mick that I'd need for him to be done by 10:00. I have to go see my supplier to get stock for my store. And my buddy whose wife just died is riding to Illinois with me. Mick said he doesn't know if he can have it done by 10:00. So I'm going to take it one day next week."

A likely story! The Pony will not be happy about spending so much time pumping my gas. Hopefully the gas won't splash out on The Pony's shoes (and bare toes) like last time. Hick's "solution" is for me to get gas at Rhodes. Wherever that is! He said it's by Walmart. In which case it's by the newest roundabout, and on a side street by the Walmart parking lot, and very inconvenient. Hick says it would be "easy," because their pumps aren't as forceful, and the stand to pay (I won't use the debit card at the pump because of card skimmers) is really close to the pumps. I figure once I start getting gas there, Hick will not take T-Hoe to be fixed!

I bet if one of Hick's Harem needed something, he could adjust the timing of his supply run...

We Are Not Refurbishing the Taj Mahal

Hick's buddy from the SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) showed up Monday to give an estimate for work on Lap House. Hick made it clear that we will furnish the materials. Construction Guy will be responsible for building walls and closets in two bedrooms that will be at the front of the house, and a living room that will be back toward the kitchen. I also think this includes a short hallway from the front door, since the door used to lead into what will now become a bedroom. I did not ask if this includes hanging drywall.

Anyhoo... Hick came home and announced that Construction Guy wanted $1000. And that he agreed, and was picking up materials Tuesday, for Construction Guy to start work on Wednesday.

"That sounds kind of expensive to me. It's not like we're refurbishing the Taj Mahal. That's a big chunk for The Pony to pay half at one time."

"Well, it is what it is. We have to get these houses done."

"What would it have cost for Old Buddy or HOS to do it?"

"Probably around $250. But they don't want to work."

Hmm... just this morning, Hick said he'd told HOS that he needs some tree limbs trimmed out here. And for POOLIO to be torn down and disposed of. So HOS can do that work as payment for the $2000 white truck that Hick made us buy to get Lap House.

It will be interesting to see how many hours of work this Lap House job takes Construction Buddy. And how many hours of work the odd jobs will take for HOS. Hick would be a lot more careful spending money if it was HIS money, and not ours!

A Possible New Helper for Hick

Hick talked to the carpenter guy about working on Lap House. He's supposed to stop by on Monday to look at the house, and hear what Hick wants done. Hick says the guy will give him an estimate.

"Wait! We can't just be hiring all the work done on our flips. That can run into major money. The Pony can't be paying big chunks at a time. There's already been the roof and the HVAC. Plus the roof on Cheap House. It won't hurt us as much short-time, but The Pony is better off paying the hourly work from Old Buddy and HOS."

"I'm going to ask what he'll charge to frame out the bedrooms and closets."

"Who pays for the materials? Because if that's part of his estimate, he'll be like a contractor. We'll have to get that disclosure form from him for when we sell it."

"I'll be buying the materials, Val. This guy will just use them to do the work. That way, we can show that the materials have been paid for, so there's no chance of somebody getting a lien on the property."

"Well. I guess if that's what you have to do..."

"I just cain't depend on Old Buddy and HOS no more. We've got to get these houses done."

"You're telling ME! You just need to spend more time on them than on your side jobs. I saw a house the same size as Cheap House, for $60,000, and it was only listed for 8 DAYS before it had a contract on it. People are buying. Sure, this one had all its walls. But it was a hoarder house, from the pictures. It needed a cleanout, and all the walls and floors re-done. Plus it didn't have a new roof!"

"Well, we'll see if this guy is reasonable. And I have to check with my rich guy about the cabinets. I think this is the week he said he was remodeling."

Let's hope Hick is fired up to finish these two projects...

Yes, Another Friday Rolled Around

Friday evening, around 5:10, Hick's phone rang.

"I know. No, I wouldn't be interested in that. That's up to you. Whatever you want to do. But I don't need it."

You never know who Hick is talking to. I could hear a woman's voice (because Hick has the volume on his phone so high, or because the sound goes in one ear and out the other). I could not hear the specifics. Hick has a gal who calls him to sell him stuff for his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5), like knives and collectibles. He will meet her on a parking lot to see what items he wants to buy. I thought it could possibly be her. But I also realized it was FRIDAY. Before I could holler in to ask, Hick said:

"Huh. I think you might be right. That was one of my "Harem," as you call them."

"Of course! It's FRIDAY!"

"And I was even over there today at the apartments!"

"That trick seems not to work anymore. What did she want?"

"It's the lady who's moving in October. With the little dog. Who called me about the dog's shot record last week. Now she says that since she's moving, would I want to buy back the microwave and kitchen table and chairs that I gave her."

"Wait. You GAVE her that stuff for FREE, and now she wants you to buy it back?"

"Yeah. I told her I'm not interested. She said, 'Well, I guess I'll have to get a storage unit and pay to keep them.' I told her to what she's gotta do. There's no way I'm going to pay her for those."

"She could just leave them, rather than pay to store them. Then you could use them again to give to somebody who might need them."

"Yeah. She'll probably end up leaving them, to keep from paying. I have to redo her whole apartment anyway, because of that dog. I'll rip out the carpet, and put in laminate. I can put that stuff in the storeroom."

"Why were you over there today?"

"For another lady's daughter. She called and said her mom had a table in storage, and thought it might have been stolen. I checked, but it was still there."

"Did other people see you there? Your Harem?"

"Yeah, a few. But I still got this call tonight."

We might have to get a landline again, so Hick can have his version of the Bat Phone. It will be the Harem Phone. A direct line to Hick for the Harem's perceived emergencies that can't wait until Monday business hours.

Sweet Dreams May be Unforthcoming

Hick has been trying to get a sleep study for several months. His breather isn't working right, and to get a new one, he needs a referral from a doctor, who needs a sleep study to justify it. Hick's current breather isn't actually "his." The original CPAP, gotten after a sleep study at the local hospital sleep lab, conked out several years ago. 

Being Hick, he found one on his own to use in the meantime. Found it at the flea market. "It belonged to some dead guy," said Hick. "I figure it will work well enough until I can get a sleep study, even though it's not set specifically for me."

You know how Hick delays things that need to be done. It was only recently that he started asking for a sleep study. Molasses in January moves faster than the medical offices around here. Hick had a little fit last week with his doctor (NP) about the lack of an appointment. The sleep lab called him back in a couple days. They could work him in during December.

"That's way too far off! Get me one at another hospital in your network!"

They did. At the hospital 30 miles north. On October 31.

"HEY! That's Halloween!"

"Yeah. Well. That's the soonest they could get me in."

"Heh, heh! You know the staff will be dressed up in costumes."

"Maybe."

"I took my mom for surgery on Halloween. There were Frankensteins and vampires and all kinds of creatures roaming the halls. It did not make her any more confident in her surgeon. Even though he wasn't dressed up."

"Well, if they do, they do."

"You'll wake up and see them. Hope you don't have a nightmare!"

"I think I'll be okay."

"I hope I am. I hope nobody decides to TRICK us while I'm home by myself."

"I think you'll be okay, too."

Yeah. I probably will. We never get any trick-or-treaters. Only one in 27 years.

It's Hard to Find Good (or ANY) Help

Hick is pulling out his remaining hair, trying to get reliable (paid) help for his flipping activities. HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) is only available during school hours, and then sometimes not, because he has morning appointments. Old Buddy hasn't worked for two weeks. Hick is a bit judgmental about the reason why...

"He's always got something wrong. Last thing, he said he had diverticulitis. He's always going to the emergency room. If he'd go to a regular doctor, they might find out what's wrong with him. He sent me a message on the weekend that he'd been to the ER three days in a row. They kept sending him home saying they couldn't find anything. He says they're messing with him. And he had to wait six hours one day. Then a couple days later, he says they figured out he has an inguinal hernia. But then he just texted me saying he has to go to a regular doctor first, before they'll do anything. And that now they think it's just his arthritis. He said he doesn't know if they have to operate to clean him out."

"Of his arthritis???"

"I don't know. They can clean up a joint."

"That's not recommended anymore for knees. Supposedly it speeds up the degeneration when you clean out the other particles from degeneration. It makes the bone bony-er on bone, or something."

"I don't know what's going on with Old Buddy. I imagine he's out of money by now. He's missed out on at least $600 since the first of the month, by not working for me. And HOS says he'll be ready, but then tells me he has an appointment that he hadn't mentioned all week. Between the two of them, I can't get much done."

"Well, HOS has to go to his appointments. I imagine Old Buddy will come back when he needs money."

"There's a guy down at the lockers who does carpentry work like me. I hesitate to ask him, because I have my vision, and that's how I want things done. HOS and Old Buddy do what I tell them. But this guy might have his own ideas. Maybe I could use him in Lap House, because I ain't done nothin' much there yet. Just tell him, 'I want to put walls here, and make a hall and two bedrooms with closets.' But I don't know if I want to ask him yet."

"I think HOS and Old Buddy will keep working. The other guy might not want to do it for $15 an hour."

"Yeah. I guess I'll wait and see."

Maybe Hick should only work them on our flips, and not on his other side jobs. Then they wouldn't get so burned out on working with him, if it was only three hours a day, four days a week.

A Little More Progress on Cheap House

Hick has taken time out of his busy schedule of doing PAID work on an old guy's trailer to make a little progress on Cheap House. Wednesday morning, he sent me a text. As proof, I suspect. Since Tuesday night he was on the phone talking to the trailer guy again.

"Wall built put some drywall up tomorrow" 

I don't see much difference here from the last photos. Only the studs (re-using lumber, it appears) for the bedroom wall. Still, he had to nail them in place, making sure they were level or plumb or whatever the terminology is.

Thursday afternoon, I got another picture.

No text this time. I suppose Hick figured that I could see it was drywall in place to make the bedroom/hall wall. Even though most of the time I CAIN'T UNDERSTAND NOTHIN'!

I think HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) has been doing this work with him, because Old Buddy has another ailment right now. Hick and HOS can only work during the time HOS's son is in school. But still, that's more than Old Buddy, whom Hick usually works just three hours a day.

Eventually, Cheap House will be done enough to sell as a flip...

The Second Feast

Hick did indeed grill on Labor Day, cooking the replacement food that I had to buy after the power outage. We didn't have as much as our regular feasts. Not because of losing the food, but because I didn't want to spend time cooking the sides. The Pony was fine with it. We are both cutting back. Hick will eat whatever is available. So it was no hardship to go without potato salad, or deviled eggs, or Stove Top Stuffing, or Sister Schubert's Rolls. We didn't even have dessert. Nobody accidentally lost a pound, I guarantee!

Hick even seemed to cut back slightly, by not having a whole pork steak.

You can see that Hick was poised to dig in (with my little ceramic paring knife!) when The Pony snapped the picture. He has a slice of pepper jack cheese, plus onion and tomato and pickle on his burger. Plus a pile of baked beans, and a haystack of SLAW.

The Pony is not a slaw aficionado.

The Pony didn't cut back on the Hidden Valley Ranch Dip that I made with sour cream and the powder packet. There are the baby carrots. The Pony actually ate the giant carrot as a snack while we were baking the beans. I used three kinds: Homestyle, Maple and Cured Bacon, and a regular can of Showboat Pork & Beans. Then I added yellow mustard, Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ Sauce, Kraft Original BBQ Sauce (it was on sale), two diced Vidalia onions, six hot dogs, and half a pound of bacon. Once they were all mixed and in the oven, The Pony assisted with the intermittent stirring. Those beans were delicious!

I didn't treat myself to the slaw this time, because I wanted more meat.

I love pickle and onions on the side. They were Baby Whole Dill Pickles from Save A Lot. They're my favorite whole pickle, with a nice crunch, although I don't consider them to be very "babyish." The Petite Dills I get at 10Box are much smaller than the babies. I use them in tuna salad and potato salad, because they don't leak a lot of juice. Anyhoo... Hick only wanted one slice of tomato, and The Pony doesn't like them. So I got the rest. It was only storebought, but better than no tomato.

You might think the meat looks overdone, but it was not. Both the burgers and pork steaks were delicious. I would be the first to complain if Hick overcooked the meat! The pork steaks had a nice saucy char on the fatty edge, which is how we like them. They were tender. The burgers were just right. Still juicy, but not rare.

The Pony took home a second bag of baby carrots, but plans to make the dip later. Also three hamburgers, and half the baked beans. We are all enjoying leftovers for several days.

I, Myself, Would Prefer a Harmless Lie to Save Hurt Feelings

I mentioned how we lost our meat during the 13-hour power outage on Saturday night. Part of that meat was four gigantic pork steaks that Hick got from one of his buddies at his SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5) on Saturday. As I said, Hick was really proud of them, because they weren't just pork steaks from a store, but from a hog that his buddy had butchered.

At first I was leery of those pork steaks. "I don't know. How will you get them home without them spoiling? It's over 100 degrees, and he's bringing them to your store!" 

"I have air conditioning there, Val. And I have a refrigerator."

"A mini fridge! Will they even fit? And how will you get them home in your truck?"

"They'll be fine, Val. My truck has air conditioning."

Even so, I sent Hick a text midday on Saturday, after he sent one announcing the procurement of those pork steaks at 11:36 a.m.

"Val i got the four pork steaks here in the fridge"

"OK. Try to wrap them in something to stay cool on the way home."

Hick agreed. I don't know what he used, but carried in a bundle of meat that was inside a paper bag. He tore away the paper bag, revealing a gallon zip-lock bag stuffed with meat and white butcher paper. He chucked the whole thing in the bottom of FRIG II.

No way was I going to take a chance on ANY meat left in FRIG II after 13 hours without electricity. Especially meat that had traveled 30 minutes through the sweltering afternoon without a cooler. I couldn't throw it out, because the dogs would gorge on it. I couldn't just put it in the trash, because it would stink terribly before trash pickup day, and wild animals (and my dogs) would be trying to get into the dumpster. So I baked it, to ration to the dogs as daily treats/meals.

On Monday evening, we were sitting at the table, enjoying our grilled replacement meats. Hick got a text. 

"Huh. It's my buddy, asking how the pork steaks are."

"Oh, no! Just tell him they're delicious."

"Too late. I just texted that we had to throw them out."

"It wouldn't hurt to tell him we enjoyed them."

"No. I'm telling the truth. He ain't gonna care. I paid for them."

If the buddy didn't really care, why would he send a text asking about those precious pork steaks? At least Hick might have said that the dogs found them tasty.

The Culprit

This is the limb that fell on the bridge that took down the electric line that gives Val all the amenities of modern life. It doesn't look like a big limb. But its dive was powerful enough to leave Val powerless for 13 hours and 20 minutes.

This was on the way home from town Sunday. With $79.40 of groceries to replace those I had to throw out. That's actually just a limb off a big tree. I saw where the branch had twisted off as I came from the other side on the way to town. It's not visible, but was around the upper right corner area of the picture.

I don't sense that the tree-trimming crew did much trimming. Looks like they just shoved the whole thing off the bridge into the creek. The other side only had an itty bitty limb.

Hick said he could see where they patched the electric line. I couldn't even see where the actual line was running across the creek. All I know is I'm happy to have my power back! I don't need to know how the sausage is made...

Val Is NOT Having a Good Day

It's a three-day weekend for Labor Day. Not that it matters. The "time off," I mean, not the concept. Since I don't work, weekends are just like weekdays to me. I should be happy, looking forward to the cookout we're having with The Pony on Monday. But it has become extra "work" for me now.

Saturday evening at 5:25, our electricity went off.

It has been blazing hot all week. 103 in town, 99 out here in the country. That's actual temperature, not heat index. Hot enough to make the devil sigh (to borrow from a Tracy Byrd song, "Watermelon Crawl"). HOT. Hick got home around 4:30. The sky had clouded up a bit.

"Was there rain in the forecast?"

"I don't think so. Just a couple of sprinkles. But it rained hard down at my store."

Then the wind started to pick up at 5:00. DARK sky. Then a little rain. Then a LOT of wind. Whipping the rain sideways, twisting the trees all will-nilly. Then hail. Then lightning. The lights flickered off. Came back on. Then went off for good.

"Do you think somebody is reporting our power outage?"

"Probably. But they don't need to anymore. The electric company can tell."

"Huh. Well. At least there's still enough light for me to see my lottery tickets."

Hick counted his SUS2.5 money. Looked out the front door. Sat down to wait for his John Wayne movie "The Horse Soldiers" to come back on. It had just started. 

We got an email from the electric company that there was a possible outage in our area. 95 homes affected. Reason unknown.

"Huh. I guess they'll have to send a crew out of St. Louis."

"Not anymore. They have some out on the highway, over towards the junior college. They'll send a crew."

"Yeah. On a holiday weekend."

"They have people on call. They like it. They'll be making at least double time for the holiday."

"They'll be taking their sweet time! To rake in more money!"

The Facebook page of our enclave had people asking if anybody knew anything. I'm sure they all got the same notice we did from the electric company. Hick told me I could call in and report it. I told him HE could call in and report it! Without electricity, we have no internet. No water, no air conditioning. No FRIG II, no lights, no cooking. One toilet flush for each bathroom. If Hick could get his phone to work, he could look up the number and call it himself. He did not.

Around 6:10, we got another notice that the estimated restore time was 8:30.

"I guess you're not having corn dogs for supper. Do you want a ham sandwich?"

"Nah. I'm not real hungry."

Hick saw on Facebook that people were saying not to take the county blacktop road to town. A tree fell on the low water bridge, and took down power lines. Which meant, according to Hick, that the tree-trimming crew would have to come out first, to clear away the tree.

Around 7:00, Hick went to bed. I was done scratching. I just sat at the kitchen table. Hoping. Sometimes it gets repaired before the estimated time.

8:30 came and went. 9:00, too. 9:30, 10:00, 10:30. I gave up waiting for power. I cracked open an individual can of Beanie Weenies for my supper. Followed by an apple for dessert. In the dark. Only the dim light of Hick's two solar lights on the porch rail seeping through the kitchen window.

At 11:30, I went to bed. Five minutes later, I got another update. The electric company was sorry that they did not have power restored by the estimated time. That's it!

At 2:30, another update. Estimated restore time was now NOON on Sunday.

At 4:20, the lights came on. The AC kicked on. I got up for a flush and some water. Sat down in my OPC. And the power went off again at 4:35! I immediately put my OPC down so I wasn't trapped. Good thing we have that battery backup, which was deader than a doornail within minutes, having been drained by the 11 hours that came before.

Hick left for his SUS2.5 at 6:00. I went back to bed. Hick had promised to manually open the garage door, so I would be able to at least drive around in T-Hoe to cool off if the house heated up. Thanks to the rain, it had been staying at 75 degrees through the night.

At 6:45 a.m., the electricity returned. You'd think I'd be celebrating. I now had flushes and water to go with my daylight. But I also had a whole FRIG II to clean out.

All week, I had been buying things for our cookout. That's because I can't carry in a lot of heavy stuff in this heat. And Hick can't help because of his surgery recovery. I'd just finished the shopping on Saturday afternoon, with two pounds of hamburger. The pre-made patties this time. 12 of them. To make my life easier. Hick had brought home 4 pork steaks from a buddy who had a hog butchered. He was really excited about those pork steaks. Now they're garbage.

According to my estranged BFF Google, food in a powerless refrigerator is only good for 4 hours. Not 13 hours. So today I have to go back to the store, and buy hamburger, pork steaks, sour cream for dip, bacon for the baked beans, hot dogs, slaw, cheese, and mayo.

I am not looking forward to the cleaning out, nor the carrying in. If we had known that the electricity was going to be off past 8:30, we could have gone to town for ice, to preserve our refrigerator foods. Or Hick could have started the generator for lights, and to run FRIG II. 

You'd think the electric company could send out more helpful notices. Even to say that they don't know when power might be restored. Then people don't lose all their food. I'm afraid that some of those 95 homes will be hurting, having probably just bought their groceries at the first of the month. By the electric company not informing us right after 8:30 that this repair was going to take much longer, people assumed the power would be coming back shortly.

Has the Record Been Broken?

Friday afternoon. Friday evening. A phone call for Hick. But it was an old guy he'd been installing electricity for. NOT ONE OF HICK'S HAREM! Bedtime for Hick. Up early Saturday morning. WITH NO HAREM CALL!

I'd like to think this needy weekend behavior has ended, but there WAS the call on Thursday night around 8:00. From one of Hick's Harem. Perhaps she was worried about the long weekend. How Hick doesn't go by the apartments on Fridays, and then with Labor Day coming on Monday.

Hick was leaned back in his recliner. He pretty much just gave perfunctory answers. It wasn't a chatfest.

"Oh. Okay. I'll be there tomorrow. Yeah. It's okay. I'll come by tomorrow."

"What was THAT about?"

"Just one of my ladies at the apartments. She has her dog's shot record."

"Huh. Does she think this is an emergency? Did it bite somebody?"

"No. I just have to have a record of the dog's shots, to go with her doctor's note that she needs the dog as a support animal."

"Well. She made sure you'll come by on Friday! That's your Harem."

I guess others might have seen Hick while he was there. Thus getting their Hick Fix on Friday, to tide them over until Tuesday when he goes back for lunch at the Senior Center.

Imagine, If You Might

Hick sent another picture from Cheap House on Thursday. He can't do much else with no helpers. I don't know if he's working through this in his head, or just doing it to show ME. Because I cain't understand nothin', you know!

Text with Hick's own grammar and spelling:

"This is what the opening from hall to kitchen and living will look like when I get the studs and drywall on it.you can see the edge of the one bedroom door on the left. Picture from front door. Piece of wood on right is just to show where wall will be"

I still had to ask some questions. Yes, walls will be white drywall. I don't know if he plans to do any painting, since it will still be sold as a flip. I don't plan on putting in flooring, either. But the little stick-out part on the left with the board will still be there, just covered by drywall. The water heater will be behind that, and the laundry room entrance in that area. 

This seems like a good area for the eventual owner/liver to put up a coat rack, or a thin hall table. It could be a handy catch-all kind of nook, perhaps for a kid's backpack to be ready to grab and go out to catch the bus.

With that board on the right, you can see how it will be an outer wall of the bedroom. Then as you walk past the corner, the hall opens up. You can see the bathroom door, and how you would turn back for the eventual bedroom door.

Now if Hick's help would only be as interested in meeting with him as his Harem...

Back Under Construction

Hick was back to work on Cheap House on Wednesday. Or at least back to taking pictures. He'd spent Monday and Tuesday putting in electricity for some random old man. Didn't bother to tell me, except I passed him at Mailbox Row, and noticed that he came from the complete opposite direction than town. No wonder Cheap House hasn't been getting any doner!

Anyhoo... Hick sent me a couple pictures on Wednesday morning. I suppose to prove that he was indeed working on Cheap House.

This is the view when you walk in the front door. Hick says it will be a hall, with a wall where that brown board is. A wall that runs from that board back to the kitchen area. There will also be a wall on the right, from that support post back towards the kitchen, and coming up to the front door. There will be a bedroom to the right, but the door into it will be between that support post and the yellow thing. You would walk in the front door, and then turn right at the bathroom door area (seen behind that blue broom), and come back towards the bedroom door. 

There's another bedroom on the left. You can barely see the bottom of the door frame just in front of that push broom. Hick says it might seem small in the picture, but the hallway will actually be 48 inches wide.

Standing by that blue broom, you can see where the entry to the laundry room will be, between the two wooden posts. To the left of the ladder is the living room area, and the back door that gives entry from the back yard.

Hick also sent a text with these two pictures. As you can imagine, the info I gave above came from interrogation, as I could not have figured it out from the text alone:

"This will be the opening going into kitchen from front door. There will be a wall where the brown board is standing. No Old Buddy today so couldn't do alot by myself."

Anyhoo... if Hick can get his paid help to work, they will be getting those walls built, and then put up drywall. Thus partially-completing even more of Cheap House before flipping it to a flipper.