These Elderlies Are Driving Me Crazy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hick's Rumpus Gets Caught in the Wringer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Flabbergasting Development Concerning T-Hoe's Health

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

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

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

[PAUSE]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hick, the King of Non Sequiturs

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

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

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

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

What in the NOT-HEAVEN???

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 3, Hicksplanations

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah."

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

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

"AND you're getting a new battery."

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Probably not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Continuation of Annoying Events: Part 2, Solutions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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