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.

_____________________________________________________________________

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.

Scare 'Em Harem

Monday night, we had bad weather rolling through. Seems like it had been hyped by the TV meteorologists for over a week. Even though there was a less-than 10 percent chance we would get an actual tornado. The conditions were there! It could be coming! Tune in for continuous coverage.

I'm not knocking the forecasters for being there to inform people. It's just that they get viewers whipped into a frenzy. Of course people who have been through a tornado are anxious. They want to be prepared. The schools pick up on it. Lots of early dismissals that day, even though our main window for the storm to pass through was 5:00 to 7:00 p.m.

I had been listening to the TV when Hick got home. Sounded like the timing had changed to around 8:00 to 8:30. Around 8:00, the wind started howling a bit more. We both got a weather alert on our phones, saying a tornado was approaching the town we live five miles east of, and to take cover immediately. I went to the living room to watch the radar with Hick.

"It looks like it's going to slide through south of us, and north of The Pony. It's really a narrow band."

"Yeah. Pony sent me a text saying the sirens were going off, but it didn't look bad enough to go sit in the closet."

"It's definitely here now. But it doesn't seem as bad as some storms, when the chairs blow off the porch."

Just then, our satellite went down. No TV. Hick's phone rang.

"Yeah. Well. He's probably asleep. It will be okay. It's probably almost past by now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Your harem?"

"Yeah. The sirens are going off. They'll all under the stairs. They couldn't get the one guy to come to the door. He probably already went to bed."

"Sounds like they're doing what they're supposed to do. I can't imagine what they thought YOU were going to do! Drive out in the storm to go check on him?"

"You never know."

Hick's Harem is quite attached to him. They seem to think he's Superman.

Lap House Intentions

It's been a month since we closed the purchase of Lap House. Since then, almost nothing has been done. Hick says he cleaned some stuff out of the basement, but I have a suspicion that the "stuff" was the tools he made a separate deal for with the previous owner.

Anyhoo... one evening Hick came from the shower to the kitchen, and said,

"I've got it! I know what I want to do with the house. This one has taken a while. Usually I can see a plan when I walk through it. Remember how it has that funny layout where you have to walk through a bedroom to get to the kitchen and the bathroom? I'm putting in a short hall, and moving the living room to where that bedroom is. So the two rooms on the front of the house will be bedrooms. You'll go down a short hall as you enter the front door. It leads to the living room and kitchen. The bathroom will be off the living room.

I want to get entrance to the basement from the inside of the house. I'll do that by extending the roof that's on the outside entrance to the basement now. Then I'll cut a door from inside the bathroom to get to those steps leading to the basement. There's no way to move the steps. They're concrete."

Here's the outside of Lap House. The front left is currently the living room, and the front right is a bedroom. The living room will turn into a bedroom, and the back bedroom will turn into the living room.

Here's the back, showing the basement entrance that Hick hopes to connect with a roof and a door into the bathroom.

Hick had his regular roofing buddy take a look at Lap House. A guy from his SUS2.5 said that he does roofing, and could give Hick an estimate. Hick was pretty sure Lap House needs a whole new roof, not just a patch job. It's a good selling point, too. Anyhoo... the SUS2.5 guy said he could do it for $8200. Regular Roofing Buddy said he will take $6300. I guess Hick knows his roofers! That's why we've been using the one guy all along.

Hick plans for the roof to be metal, and black. He hasn't decided on whether he will paint the red porch black, or the same color as the siding. Hick's HVAC guy also gave his estimate for heating and cooling, which Hick said was either $7600 or $6700. He can't remember (CAIN'T REMEMBER NOTHIN', heh, heh) because it was by a phone call, not a text.

I don't know when Hick will get all of this in motion. His harem is pretty needy lately, heh, heh. But at least he's taking my suggestion to get the roof and HVAC done now, while the weather is mild, so he can do inside work through the heat of summer and cold of winter.

Following the Trailer's Money Trail

A couple weeks ago, Hick "gave" his wrecked trailer to his boss from the senior apartments. That's what he said, anyway. That he was "giving" him the wrecked trailer, to get rid of it, because the guy needed an axle off of it. I took Hick for his word. Other people can trust him. Why shouldn't I?

The more I thought about it, I figured it was unlike Hick just to give something away without a trade of goods or services. Especially when there were several hundred dollars we had not recouped from the payback deal with the borrower who wrecked it.

"Are you sure you just gave away your wrecked trailer? Your boss didn't pay you ANYTHING?"

"Well. He give me $175 for it. But I paid $183 to have it hauled out here! OUT OF MY POCKET!"

I can believe both. Hick never asked me for money to pay for the tow. I figured it wasn't free, even if a buddy did it. I can also believe that Hick thought he would get away with not admitting his boss paid him for the wrecked trailer. If it was actually those amounts, why wouldn't Hick bother to tell me?

So, I'm not really fired up over this hoodwinking, if Hick wasn't actually making a profit off something WE bought for him originally. But I don't appreciate the deception.

The trailer tale does not end there!

On the day Hick's boss came out to get it, I passed them in the field, trying to load the wrecked trailer onto the boss's trailer. The boss had his truck parked in the field, and was standing back away from it. Hick was on his blue tractor, with the bucket under the side of the wrecked trailer, lifting it up, to load on the boss's trailer. I gave a wave and drove on by, not offering my totally useless and un-asked-for help.

That was two weeks ago. Hick had to wait to do this transfer until he got his blue tractor back from HOS (Hick's Oldest Son), who had used it to dig a trench for a sewer line. When Hick went to fetch his tractor (on the day he was so late and his text didn't come through), his tractor wouldn't start.

"Oh. So you loaned your tractor, and now something is wrong with IT! Maybe you should stop loaning your stuff!"

"It wasn't nobody's fault, Val. HOS didn't break my tractor. He had it parked on a slope. There must have been dirt in the gas tank, and it settled wrong, and we had to get it out. I made HOS blow in the hose, though!"

Hick had told me that right after he came home from retrieving the tractor. I didn't think anything more about it. Until Hick came to the house a couple days ago, after working over at the BARn. He threw a receipt on the kitchen table. I think it was around $59.

"I had to get a part for my tractor. The hydraulics are all messed up."

"Oh. Right after you got it back from loaning it..."

"No! It has been going bad for a while. I noticed it when I tried to load the trailer for my boss. My tractor couldn't do it! It didn't have the hydraulic power to lift it. So we went down and got Neighbor with his tractor, and got it loaded."

"Good thing he was home to help out."

"Oh. And I'm going to need a check tomorrow. I went by Mick the Mechanic's shop and ordered two tires my tractor."

"Right after you got it back from loaning it!"

"They was dry-rotted, Val. And trying to lift that trailer was too much for them. It wasn't nobody's fault. It's the front tires. For $300."

This is turning into a "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" scenario!

The Everchanging Story

Hick is sometimes a bit devious. Sometimes a bit wishy-washy. And sometimes rewrites history. He thinks he can play me for a fool, or else he regrets something he's done, and rather than take ownership, declares that I CAIN'T UNDERSTAND NOTHIN'!

All this to get me off his back. Can you imagine??? I am only trying to determine facts. Whether for my self-satisfaction, or to keep our financial records straight for the flip house expenses.

Remember when we bought Lap House? Surely you do. It was only last month. At the time, Hick said he was making a deal with Some Guy for a truck sitting on the property. It's right there in my blog, plain as day! Hick was trading a couple of guns from his shop for the pickup truck. This was a transaction for Hick's business, for which he is federally and locally licensed. Everything above-board with the legalities for transfer of both such items. Background check, title and license, etc.

THEN Hick asked me for the $2000 to pay Some Guy for the truck. Which I gave him, because he said it was just another cost to get Lap House. That the deal had to include the truck. Yet I distinctly remember Hick coming home from his SUS2.5 that week, complaining that Some Guy was picking out his most expensive item, and wanting another one also. 

NOW Hick says that he was never trading guns for the truck. That WE bought the truck as part of the house deal, and HE was trading Some Guy two guns for all the tools in the basement. Some Guy had asked Hick if he wanted to buy the tools, and said he couldn't move them. Which is also a bit of a fishy transaction by Hick, because it seems to me that the tools came with the house we bought. Any other contents when we've bought a flip house were part of the deal. Whether we had to pay to dump them at the landfill, or it was furniture that was usable, Hick didn't pay the dump fee or reap the rewards. If The Pony and I didn't find the contents of any value, we told Hick he could have them for his shop. That didn't happen with the tools.

Anyhoo... this question arose because of new developments with that truck. Old Buddy has it at his house. Hick had it towed there, for Old Buddy to work on and get it running. Put the title in Old Buddy's name. The cost being taken out of Old Buddy's pay for working on the flip houses. Yet on Wednesday, Hick said he paid Old Buddy for moving furniture out of Bargain House after the sale.

"Wait! Why are you PAYING Old Buddy for work, when he's supposed to be working off that $2000 truck?"

"He ain't got it runnin' yet, Val!"

"It doesn't matter! He still has that truck, with the title in his name."

"Yes. But I told him he didn't have to pay until he had it runnin'."

"Well, isn't THAT an incentive! He can just keep working, getting paid, and say he doesn't have it running yet. And we're out $2000."

"Nooo. I'm gonna take out half his pay when he has the truck going."

"HALF? That will take twice as long! You only pay him $45 a day, four days a week!"

"He'll pay for the truck, Val."

Oh, really? Well, on Thursday Hick talked to Old Buddy about the truck. Old Buddy said it was a lot harder to figure out what was wrong than he thought. So now Hick says he will take back the truck because Old Buddy doesn't seem to want it. Hick will have one of his mechanic buddies tow it to his place, and fix it. But that we'll have to pay him for the work. And then Hick will sell the truck. But we won't make much.

Won't THAT be a nightmare to deal with in my records for expenditures for Lap House???

I talked it over with The Pony. We are in agreement that the $2000 truck should NOT be counted as part of the deal on Lap House. The Pony should not have to contribute to that cost. Hick and I are responsible for that truck, and money from the eventual sale should go right back into our household account to cover the outlay for its purchase and repair.

Hick says the truck $2000 should be added to the cost of the house. I tried to explain that at tax time, we will have documents from the closing that report the sale price of Lap House. Which does not account for that $2000. He's hard to convince when he's arguing to have things his way!

Hick needs to keep his wheeling and dealing to his business from now on.

Hick Beds His Harem

The Buyer for Bargain House didn't want any of the furniture Hick had left in it. He and Old Buddy and The Pony moved out a small bed and a bed frame and dresser, along with a small table and a wall mirror, plus pictures hanging on the wall.

"I just rented an apartment to a new lady yesterday. She don't have nothin'. Her rent, after HUD, is only $71 a month, instead of the regular $575. I'm giving her the bed and the dresser. There's another lady there who can use the bed frame. So I don't have to do nothin' with those, except put them in their apartments."

He's a good guy, our Hick. Towards his harem, anyway.

I hope this doesn't start an issue amongst them! Once the others find out Hick has bedded two in their midst.

Slamming the Door on Bargain House

The deal is done! Bargain House is sold. Checks are in the bank. The electricity, gas, and water services have been stopped from our end. Hick also went by the insurance office Thursday, to cancel the policy on Bargain House that was paid for six months on Monday, having been due on Tuesday. Now we just have to wait for our insurance refund, and the final bills for utilities. The water had a $150 deposit, which we should get back, once they subtract the pro-rated service up to the date of disconnect.

Until the final bills/refunds arrive, I can't calculate our exact profit on Bargain House. I do know that this will be our most profitable flip to date, and probably forever. We got it for such a good price, and the majority of repairs were not expensive, being handled by Hick. I think the most costly was the HVAC system we installed last year for $4800.

Here's another odd thing from the closing. The Closing Gal asked Hick and Realtor Guy if major renovations had been done on the property this year. If they had some kind of forms to show that there were no liens against the property. Hick said no, that he did most of the work himself. Realtor Guy said he had the receipt from the window replacement. Hick mentioned the HVAC, which was the only thing I recall being contracted out, besides the windows. Closing Gal said it was okay, since it was not done this year.

Closing Gal told Hick the name of the form, which I forget. But that on any future property, he needed that to keep on file for any contracted work. To prove that all the work was paid for, and nobody could come back and make a claim against the property.

Hick remembered a time we had some work done on my $17,000 house in town. I think it was when we bumped out the living room to make an office alcove. The guy who did it was Hick's ex-brother-in-law. He did really good carpentry work, for cash. Unfortunately, he didn't pay for the concrete he used for the foundation. Hick was friends with the local concrete guy. He came to talk to Hick, saying that [REDACTED] had not paid for the concrete. So Hick paid it.

That was not a big deal at the time. It might have been the couple weeks that we were left with only plastic closing in our alcove, because [REDACTED] didn't show up to work. We found out later he had been locked up during that time. It didn't stop us from using him. He did really good work. But he also liked to have a few drinks and get in bar fights on the weekend. Which might tell you a little about Hick's "guys" that he has in every trade, heh, heh.

Anyhoo... back to our Bargain House closing. Hick explained that he sometimes got a discount because he paid cash to these tradesmen. Closing Gal said he could still make sure to have that form showing he paid. And to get such a thing for materials as well. Hick said he'd tried to get it from Lowe's this time, but they wouldn't give it. Said he had to call somebody at corporate headquarters, and I forget what their issue was. Hick thinks he can get around that in the future by using his Lowe's Pro account and coding purchases to a specific address. Their statements are not good about itemizing the purchases. It lists materials bought on a certain date, but doesn't show the price on each item. Just a total for that purchase.

Anyhoo... when Closing Gal left the room to make copies, Hick told Realtor Guy that in all the houses we've done, nobody has asked him for such documents. Realtor Guy said (in a whisper, lest he be overheard) that it depends on which title company you use for the closing. Hick said he could understand, because the title company is the entity on the hook if somebody comes back to make a claim for payment, since they are the ones doing the search and issuing the title insurance.

That's a lot of boring stuff that doesn't say much of anything. Except that Bargain House is sold, and we are rolling in dough until we start forking out money for a new roof on Lap House, and also an HVAC system after Hick upgrades the electric.

Seems Like Renovations Were the EASY Part of the Bargain House Flip

As we got our folders of documents at the close of the closing on Bargain House, I asked if the 1099 tax forms were in it, or if they would be mailed next January.

"We give them to you now, but I can't give them to you YET. It's not legal to issue them until after The Buyer has signed, and the closing is complete. You will get them when you pick up your checks."

I reminded Hick of this as we were getting in A-Cad. He said no, they'll come in the mail at tax time. That's how much Hick pays attention when the attention isn't on HIM, heh, heh. I sure hope he remembers when he picks up the checks. Hick said he had other things to do Thursday, and that I could deposit the check. Rather than driving it all the way home, I told him to sign our check, then leave it with The Pony, and we could take them to the bank that afternoon.

As we were buckling up, I saw our Realtor Guy running across the street where he was parked, to knock on Hick's window. That's Hick's blind side.

"Um. Dad! The realtor wants you to roll down the window!"

Realtor Guy said he had a message from The Buyer, asking if there was anything in the house.

"Yes. There's them two beds. A dresser. Some pictures on the walls. A table. He can have it all if he wants it. Or if not, I can go home and get my truck, and move it out."

Realtor Guy sent a message back to The Buyer, to find out what to do. Said he'd let Hick know. The Pony volunteered to help moving furniture. Hick said, "Well, I cain't move it all by myself!" Rather than saying thanks for offering. It's all about Hick.

We drove back to The Pony's house. Hick dumped us out real quick. It was 10:58.

"Are you going home for the truck? Or going to lunch?"

"I'm goin' to eat lunch! I ain't heard nothin' back. So who knows if I'll have to move it."

Well. Hick got his comeuppance later that night. He was SICK! Almost vomiting sick. Couldn't eat all his supper. I said it must have been his lunch: Gourmet Chicken Salad/Choice of Breads/Tomato and Cucumber Pasta/Strawberries and Marshmallows. Hick DID say that it wasn't very good...

Anyhoo... Hick ended up coming to get SilverRedO after lunch. He called Old Buddy, and the three of them moved out the furniture from Bargain House. I have no idea why he left it there. It was from another house, the QuickFlip, that we only had for a month before selling.

I told Hick he should have agreed to move the furniture, then stretched it out for six weeks before finally getting everything out, heh, heh.

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The Buyer must have showed up to his 2:00 closing appointment, with actual money, because Hick was able to pick up our checks this next morning. I just verified that as I typed this. Hick dropped them off at The Pony's house, so we can deposit them later this afternoon during Errand Day.

Of course, in true Hick fashion, he did not do the logical thing as I had instructed him the previous day. I had an inkling. So I called back, while he was having lunch with his harem: BBQ Chicken/Scalloped Potatoes/Hot Cabbage Slaw/Roll/Peach Pie.

"Did you get the 1099s?"

"Yes."

"Did you sign the check?"

"Oh. No. I didn't think about that. They should let you deposit it in our account anyway."

"I've tried that before with an insurance refund. They sent it back out and wanted a signature. So we drove around the block and I forged it! I'm not doing it on a check this big. You go by The Pony's and sign it! It's only a few blocks away."

"Okay. In about 20 minutes when I'm done with lunch."

Hopefully, everything will be in order, and we'll have our checks deposited this afternoon. Then again, The Universe likes to toy with Thevictorians.