One evening last week (okay, early-morning), I was startled by an unidentifiable noise. You'd think by now that I wouldn't be startled by such happenings. It's no surprise that they occur. It's only a surprise as it happens. There's no predicting these incidents.
It was sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 a.m. I'd been in my OPC (Old People Chair) since 11:30, leaned back watching TV. Yet there it was. The sound of a golf ball dropping into the cup. I don't play golf, you know. I've only played three times in my life, if you don't count miniature golf. But I know that sound. I've heard it on TV. Not that I watch golf on TV. That's just a notch above hockey, and below NASCAR.
Hm. There's no golf course in my basement. No golf balls or clubs. Certainly no 18 holes, or even one, so no cups built into my basement press-down tile over concrete floor. The strangeness of this sound made me sit up straighter in my recliner. It was not the usual footsteps above, or bed-turning, or heavy objects dropping into a bathtub.
The sound came from the basement for sure. Over past the 13 steps to the living room. Maybe in the area between Genius's old desk, and the NASCAR bathroom. Towards my office.
Do you think I got up to go investigate? NOT-HEAVEN, NO! I just sat there, slightly more upright, frozen, waiting for it to happen again, or for something even more heinous to occur. It did not. That was it. An isolated noise incident.
I'd pretty much forgotten about that noise when I descended to my dark basement lair the next day. I flipped on the light as I entered my office, and saw disarray.
On the floor were three empty Diet Coke bottles, and some thin cellophane that had held an 8-pack of mini cereal boxes together. Huh. That was curious.
Let the record show that I have a large kitchen trash bag in my office. Not in an actual wastebasket. Just a loose trash bag, the black kind with a blue drawstring top. It sits on an open box next to my good rolly chair. The one that's too long for my legs, that I've parked next to one of my bookshelves. The box sits on another box of stuff from school. It's about the height of the seat of my good rolly chair. I dispose of trash as needed, and when the bag is full, I carry it upstairs and out to the dumpster.
I just took out the trash last week. The new trash bag had some empty mini cereal boxes in it, and some empty Diet Coke bottles. It was nowhere near full. Maybe 1/6 as full as it was going to be when it was time to go to the dumpster again. Every night, before I go out to my OPC, I put my empty Diet Coke bottle in that trash bag. I'd done so at 11:30.
Let the record further show that I shake the bottle down into the bottom of the trash bag. It is not unstable. The stuff in the bottom sits in the hollow of the not-quite-empty box. I lay the top of the bag back down on itself.
Somehow, the open top of the bag had leaned itself over, and ejected three empty Diet Coke bottles, and that thin cellophane wrapper. Which you might think would stick to the sides of the black plastic trash bag with static.
I still can't figure out how THREE Diet Coke bottles made ONE noise, and didn't bounce on the tile floor.
Sunday, April 21, 2019
Saturday, April 20, 2019
Not Much HaPENNYing in the Future Pennyillionaire Business
I knew that my rate of penny-finding could not sustain itself. A dry spell is expected, even amidst the April showers we've been having here in Backroads.
MONDAY, April 15, I was surprised to find a penny waiting for me at Orb K.
It was a 2002 heads-up cent, there by the after-weekend depleted energy supplement rack. Looks like someone was too exhausted to find a wastebasket for their donut wrapper. I hope they bought an energy supplement!
I was even more surprised that although I took a closeup of my rightful penny, my phone camera had other ideas. Once in T-Hoe, I sent the photo to my email, for easy blog access. When I swiped to the closeup, all I saw was a black screen, and heard a SNICK sound like when the picture snaps. That crazy Genius hand-me-down phone had led me to believe that the closeup was taken. Darn technology!
Don't you worry about how Even Steven is treating Val, though. She heard her special song "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye" on her drive past the cemetery this week. And last Thursday, upon returning from cashing in her $1000 lottery ticket and having lunch at the casino with her sister the ex-mayor's wife... Val found this on the floor of her garage.
Don't see it? Allow me to assist you with a closeup. It's just under that white stripe.
It was a ladybug, and it was alive! Hick has to let me out before he pulls A-Cad into the garage, because of course when building the garage, he did not allow for enough room for two cars' doors to open completely. Or maybe it's just all the junk he has stored on that side, because T-Hoe's doors open on his side of the garage.
This was on the 11th, which happens to be a significant number pertaining to Val's birthday.
Sometimes, riches come in a form other than pennies.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 55.
Dime still at 7.
Nickel still at 6.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
MONDAY, April 15, I was surprised to find a penny waiting for me at Orb K.
It was a 2002 heads-up cent, there by the after-weekend depleted energy supplement rack. Looks like someone was too exhausted to find a wastebasket for their donut wrapper. I hope they bought an energy supplement!
I was even more surprised that although I took a closeup of my rightful penny, my phone camera had other ideas. Once in T-Hoe, I sent the photo to my email, for easy blog access. When I swiped to the closeup, all I saw was a black screen, and heard a SNICK sound like when the picture snaps. That crazy Genius hand-me-down phone had led me to believe that the closeup was taken. Darn technology!
Don't you worry about how Even Steven is treating Val, though. She heard her special song "How Can I Help You Say Goodbye" on her drive past the cemetery this week. And last Thursday, upon returning from cashing in her $1000 lottery ticket and having lunch at the casino with her sister the ex-mayor's wife... Val found this on the floor of her garage.
Don't see it? Allow me to assist you with a closeup. It's just under that white stripe.
It was a ladybug, and it was alive! Hick has to let me out before he pulls A-Cad into the garage, because of course when building the garage, he did not allow for enough room for two cars' doors to open completely. Or maybe it's just all the junk he has stored on that side, because T-Hoe's doors open on his side of the garage.
This was on the 11th, which happens to be a significant number pertaining to Val's birthday.
Sometimes, riches come in a form other than pennies.
__________________________________________________________________
2019 Running Total
Penny # 55.
Dime still at 7.
Nickel still at 6.
Quarter still at 1.
2018 TOTALS
Penny 131
Dime 17
Nickel 6
Quarter 1
2017 TOTALS (Started in March, 2017)
Penny 78
Dime 6
Nickel 0
Quarter 0
___________________________________________________________________
Friday, April 19, 2019
Hick House Exterior: Deck Complete 04-19-19
Here's the latest on Hick House. The deck is finished, the siding is progressing, and the kitchen table is in.
The handrails are on the steps, and the dilapidated-looking picket fence is up.
Kind of a long and awkward view, but you can see that Hick finished off the handrails with a board cap. It looks sturdy to me.
Hick has since trimmed off the bottom of those fence pickets. He and HOS really need to maintain their worksite in a less junky manner. They didn't ask my opinion, though, and I haven't lifted one finger to help, so I'll keep that opinion to myself.
Hick has trailered a bunch of metal roofing over there, so on the next dry day, he and HOS can put a roof on that concrete shed. Hick also wants to take his tractor to town, and scoop out some dirt that's inside the concrete garage, and dump it in the little creek. This will be a flat, slanted roof, higher in the front. Nothing fancy.
Believe it or not, there's nothing wrong with those three windows on the back of the house. They will get paint, and new shades inside should make a difference.
HOS has been putting up siding as weather permits. I wouldn't want to be on that ladder hanging siding.
The front corner of the wall will get a piece of trim. If HOS doesn't have one in his FREE siding stash, Hick will make one out of lumber and paint it.
HOS also stained and sealed the kitchen floor, and moved in the kitchen table.
Hick's phone camera does it no favors. I guess the kitchen chandelier was too bright.
Hick is currently building a closet in the master bedroom, so he has a place to run electric wire to the upstairs. The electric company told him that he can run his over-deck wire to attach at the front corner of the house instead, and they will come hook it up and disconnect the old wire. Hick said he already has the wire, or he wouldn't do it that way, because it would cost him $100 for about 30 feet of wire. He's pleased with this new electrical plan.
Updates will continue as Hick provides photos. Hick House is not a palace, but it is growing safer and more inspectable by the week.
The handrails are on the steps, and the dilapidated-looking picket fence is up.
Kind of a long and awkward view, but you can see that Hick finished off the handrails with a board cap. It looks sturdy to me.
Hick has since trimmed off the bottom of those fence pickets. He and HOS really need to maintain their worksite in a less junky manner. They didn't ask my opinion, though, and I haven't lifted one finger to help, so I'll keep that opinion to myself.
Hick has trailered a bunch of metal roofing over there, so on the next dry day, he and HOS can put a roof on that concrete shed. Hick also wants to take his tractor to town, and scoop out some dirt that's inside the concrete garage, and dump it in the little creek. This will be a flat, slanted roof, higher in the front. Nothing fancy.
Believe it or not, there's nothing wrong with those three windows on the back of the house. They will get paint, and new shades inside should make a difference.
HOS has been putting up siding as weather permits. I wouldn't want to be on that ladder hanging siding.
The front corner of the wall will get a piece of trim. If HOS doesn't have one in his FREE siding stash, Hick will make one out of lumber and paint it.
HOS also stained and sealed the kitchen floor, and moved in the kitchen table.
Hick's phone camera does it no favors. I guess the kitchen chandelier was too bright.
Hick is currently building a closet in the master bedroom, so he has a place to run electric wire to the upstairs. The electric company told him that he can run his over-deck wire to attach at the front corner of the house instead, and they will come hook it up and disconnect the old wire. Hick said he already has the wire, or he wouldn't do it that way, because it would cost him $100 for about 30 feet of wire. He's pleased with this new electrical plan.
Updates will continue as Hick provides photos. Hick House is not a palace, but it is growing safer and more inspectable by the week.
Thursday, April 18, 2019
Even Steven Owes Me One
Even Steven seems to have chosen a nonmonetary way to restore equilibrium after my $1000 lottery winner. I've been doing okay on the scratchers. No big wins, but still getting back my usual 40% returns, or more. I'd been expecting a long dry spell, bereft of winners. That's usually how it goes. What I did NOT expect was a downturn in my everyday luck.
Not so much everyday luck, as getting through every day without unfortunate mishaps. Like Wednesday, for instance.
I had only been up for about 5 minutes when the first of my misfortunes befell me. I was at the kitchen sink, having just taken my thyroid pill, which requires a full glass of water. I keep a red Solo cup on the counter, just for that purpose. I had swallowed the pill, and was in the midst of filling my almond-colored sink with hot water and dirty dishes. The red Solo cup was 3/4 full of water. You don't expect me to chug it, do you? It takes a few minutes.
I reached to the counter for my Dawn orange-scented dishwashing liquid, and my hand hit the red Solo cup. I jerked in surprise, which tipped the cup over, flooding the floor and the left leg of my pajama pants with cold water. Dang it! I squished my way to the laundry room for some towels to mop up the mess. Then started a load of laundry for the towels and pajama pants, and also some other clothes. I figured I could toss them in the dryer when I got home from town.
Easter is coming up Sunday. Did you know that? I, myself, forgot. So it dawned on me while touring the innernets with HIPPIE that I must get some treats to send The Pony a package. Genius sent a text that he did not need treats, but would appreciate some scratchers. He does not buy them for himself. Then here came Hick up the driveway in SilverRedO, unexpected, and took up some time chatting with me before heading back to Hick House in A-Cad, to meet with the man from the electric company about the over-deck wire, then pick up This Guy from the nursing home rehab for his back surgery, and take him home.
As I came to the county lettered highway, I saw the road department had flag men limiting it to one lane while they worked on the bridge. But no one was watching my county blacktop road. So I just kept sitting there, waiting for either flag man to motion me out. Finally I was noticed, and given the go-ahead.
The bank, the Sis-Town Casey's, and the main post office were visited without incident. It was the school-turn Casey's that threw me for a loop. I came out with scratchers (for Easter-sending), unlocked T-Hoe with my clicker, and reached for the door handle. The door would not open! I thought it might be a clicker problem. I've been having those for several years, yet Hick refuses to take apart my clicker to see about the battery, or give me the spare clicker. I definitely heard the clicker unlock the door. When I tried again, the handle came out, and stayed out.
I gave it several tries, but that handle was not opening the latch! Great. I went around to the passenger side. Don't be thinking Val is nimble enough to climb over the full console and into the driver's seat. Those days are long gone. My intent was to reach over and open the driver's door from the inside. Well. Maybe if I was Stretch Armstrong, or Inspector Gadget with a telescoping arm. I finally had to get up on my knees (ouch) on the passenger seat and console, to reach the inside handle and open the door.
Did I mention that the wind was blowing 25 mph? It was. Unfortunately, from the driver's side of T-Hoe. By the time I climbed down and walked around to pull the driver's door open, the wind had blown so hard that it had clicked the door partway closed. Partway might as well be fully latched, because that door handle was ornamental only. I went BACK around, climbed in the passenger side again, and opened the door with the inside handle.
You know what happened, right? The exact same thing! The wind blew the door halfway latched. I tried the back door, behind the driver's door. I stood up on the running board, and tried to reach forward, but T-Hoe's inside door handles are way up front. So again, I climbed down and went to the passenger side. Oh, did I mention that parked on that side was a County Sheriff SUV, white with brown markings? Didn't matter, because nobody was getting out to assist Old Lady Val.
This time, I climbed across and opened the door, and used my purse on the driver's seat to wedge against it. You know what happened, right? The purse kept the wind from latching the door, but when I pulled it open, my purse fell down and dumped everything out. Also, the door didn't want to close (go figure!) when I pulled it shut from inside. So I had to fiddle with the latch clicky notch thingy on the edge of the door to make it close.
I got in and called Hick, to tell him I was having a very bad day. He seemed to have a modicum of sympathy, but it's not like he could bring me A-Cad. He was waiting on the electric company man, and then had to go pick up This Guy, who can't climb up in T-Hoe with his surgeried back. I told Hick I still had stops to make, and I couldn't keep climbing in the passenger door, and that I felt like leaving the door unlatched.
"I can take my purse in. There's nothing else they can really take. But the wind keeps blowing the door latched."
Hick suggested that I stuff my coat in the edge. I went one better, and used a glove only, jamming a couple fingers into the latch part on the body of T-Hoe. Sheesh!
Don't go thinking my troubles were over!
While I was in line waiting to pay for Easter candy at Walmart, I got a text. From the electric company. "We are investigating a reported power outage in the area of YOUR ADDRESS. We estimate that power will be restored by 3:45 p.m. To confirm your status, reply with 1 for power ON, 2 for power OFF, or 3 for Do not know." Not good news for my wet clothes back home, awaiting the dryer.
Dang it! That was at 1:50 p.m. I was not looking forward to getting home and carrying my purchases into a house with no power. Did I mention that it was 82 degrees?
When I came out of Walmart, I was relieved that nobody had stolen my highly-desirable 2008 Tahoe. I also discovered, in washing my hand with GermX, that I had cut a finger on T-Hoe's door latch. I figured I'd survive, though, with only three stops left to make.
When I came out of the Backroads Casey's, I reached to open the door, and the HANDLE CAME COMPLETELY OFF. Not that it really mattered.
I wish I was some kind of Idiot Hick MacGyver Savant, and could whip out a gewgaw made from parking lot junk that would open my door. But I'm not.
There's the handle, on the dash, when I stopped at Country Mart. A door handle should not be riding INSIDE the car!
I made it home without further incident, making sure to jam that glove into the latch at every other stop, and take my purse inside. On the way up the hill before our mailboxes, I passed an electric company truck. It was parked in the road, with the driver walking around to get in. As I came up the driveway, I was relieved to see the garage door go up with the clicker. We had power!
Oh, yeah. I bought myself a couple scratchers as well. Won 40% back on them.
Not so much everyday luck, as getting through every day without unfortunate mishaps. Like Wednesday, for instance.
I had only been up for about 5 minutes when the first of my misfortunes befell me. I was at the kitchen sink, having just taken my thyroid pill, which requires a full glass of water. I keep a red Solo cup on the counter, just for that purpose. I had swallowed the pill, and was in the midst of filling my almond-colored sink with hot water and dirty dishes. The red Solo cup was 3/4 full of water. You don't expect me to chug it, do you? It takes a few minutes.
I reached to the counter for my Dawn orange-scented dishwashing liquid, and my hand hit the red Solo cup. I jerked in surprise, which tipped the cup over, flooding the floor and the left leg of my pajama pants with cold water. Dang it! I squished my way to the laundry room for some towels to mop up the mess. Then started a load of laundry for the towels and pajama pants, and also some other clothes. I figured I could toss them in the dryer when I got home from town.
Easter is coming up Sunday. Did you know that? I, myself, forgot. So it dawned on me while touring the innernets with HIPPIE that I must get some treats to send The Pony a package. Genius sent a text that he did not need treats, but would appreciate some scratchers. He does not buy them for himself. Then here came Hick up the driveway in SilverRedO, unexpected, and took up some time chatting with me before heading back to Hick House in A-Cad, to meet with the man from the electric company about the over-deck wire, then pick up This Guy from the nursing home rehab for his back surgery, and take him home.
As I came to the county lettered highway, I saw the road department had flag men limiting it to one lane while they worked on the bridge. But no one was watching my county blacktop road. So I just kept sitting there, waiting for either flag man to motion me out. Finally I was noticed, and given the go-ahead.
The bank, the Sis-Town Casey's, and the main post office were visited without incident. It was the school-turn Casey's that threw me for a loop. I came out with scratchers (for Easter-sending), unlocked T-Hoe with my clicker, and reached for the door handle. The door would not open! I thought it might be a clicker problem. I've been having those for several years, yet Hick refuses to take apart my clicker to see about the battery, or give me the spare clicker. I definitely heard the clicker unlock the door. When I tried again, the handle came out, and stayed out.
I gave it several tries, but that handle was not opening the latch! Great. I went around to the passenger side. Don't be thinking Val is nimble enough to climb over the full console and into the driver's seat. Those days are long gone. My intent was to reach over and open the driver's door from the inside. Well. Maybe if I was Stretch Armstrong, or Inspector Gadget with a telescoping arm. I finally had to get up on my knees (ouch) on the passenger seat and console, to reach the inside handle and open the door.
Did I mention that the wind was blowing 25 mph? It was. Unfortunately, from the driver's side of T-Hoe. By the time I climbed down and walked around to pull the driver's door open, the wind had blown so hard that it had clicked the door partway closed. Partway might as well be fully latched, because that door handle was ornamental only. I went BACK around, climbed in the passenger side again, and opened the door with the inside handle.
You know what happened, right? The exact same thing! The wind blew the door halfway latched. I tried the back door, behind the driver's door. I stood up on the running board, and tried to reach forward, but T-Hoe's inside door handles are way up front. So again, I climbed down and went to the passenger side. Oh, did I mention that parked on that side was a County Sheriff SUV, white with brown markings? Didn't matter, because nobody was getting out to assist Old Lady Val.
This time, I climbed across and opened the door, and used my purse on the driver's seat to wedge against it. You know what happened, right? The purse kept the wind from latching the door, but when I pulled it open, my purse fell down and dumped everything out. Also, the door didn't want to close (go figure!) when I pulled it shut from inside. So I had to fiddle with the latch clicky notch thingy on the edge of the door to make it close.
I got in and called Hick, to tell him I was having a very bad day. He seemed to have a modicum of sympathy, but it's not like he could bring me A-Cad. He was waiting on the electric company man, and then had to go pick up This Guy, who can't climb up in T-Hoe with his surgeried back. I told Hick I still had stops to make, and I couldn't keep climbing in the passenger door, and that I felt like leaving the door unlatched.
"I can take my purse in. There's nothing else they can really take. But the wind keeps blowing the door latched."
Hick suggested that I stuff my coat in the edge. I went one better, and used a glove only, jamming a couple fingers into the latch part on the body of T-Hoe. Sheesh!
Don't go thinking my troubles were over!
While I was in line waiting to pay for Easter candy at Walmart, I got a text. From the electric company. "We are investigating a reported power outage in the area of YOUR ADDRESS. We estimate that power will be restored by 3:45 p.m. To confirm your status, reply with 1 for power ON, 2 for power OFF, or 3 for Do not know." Not good news for my wet clothes back home, awaiting the dryer.
Dang it! That was at 1:50 p.m. I was not looking forward to getting home and carrying my purchases into a house with no power. Did I mention that it was 82 degrees?
When I came out of Walmart, I was relieved that nobody had stolen my highly-desirable 2008 Tahoe. I also discovered, in washing my hand with GermX, that I had cut a finger on T-Hoe's door latch. I figured I'd survive, though, with only three stops left to make.
When I came out of the Backroads Casey's, I reached to open the door, and the HANDLE CAME COMPLETELY OFF. Not that it really mattered.
There's the handle, on the dash, when I stopped at Country Mart. A door handle should not be riding INSIDE the car!
I made it home without further incident, making sure to jam that glove into the latch at every other stop, and take my purse inside. On the way up the hill before our mailboxes, I passed an electric company truck. It was parked in the road, with the driver walking around to get in. As I came up the driveway, I was relieved to see the garage door go up with the clicker. We had power!
Oh, yeah. I bought myself a couple scratchers as well. Won 40% back on them.
Wednesday, April 17, 2019
The Customer Can Sometimes Be Right
Remember when the customer was always right? Like in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, when that angry guy didn't believe he'd been served the best breakfast he ever ate? Even though he ate most of it, and demanded his money back. HE was right. He got his refund, and he got Brad fired from All-American Burger.
These days, it's like the customer is never right. They're an annoyance.
I'd be satisfied if I could be right at least half of the time. Walk in, do my business, no hassles, nothing out of the ordinary. Just pay for my items and leave.
Friday, I set out my Walmart purchases on the conveyor. I am a well-known grouper. Boxes with boxes, produce with produce, cold with cold. All the checker need do is run the stuff over the sensor, and put it in a bag. It's GROUPED with what it needs to be bagged with. That wasn't good enough for my checker.
I started with the fried chicken. It was hot from the deli warmer, and I didn't want it bagged with anything else. In fact, as soon as I get it to T-Hoe, I take it out of the bag so it doesn't sweat. Nobody wants sweaty chicken. Boxes of stuff were next. Some crunchy oats and honey granola bars, an assortment of mini cereal boxes. Then Hick's loose bottles of strawberry banana flavored water, six of them. The produce was next, a bag of limes, a bunch of bananas. Lastly, I had a few cold items grouped together. A block of extra-sharp cheddar, some bratwursts, BBQ pulled pork, and a pack of eight fried chicken wings from the deli refrigerator case.
I had my eye on that checker. Usually, they will bag up my hot fried chicken, and set it on top of the bag carousel, where I pick it up and put it in the child seat of the cart. Just to keep track of it. Same way, I put my cold stuff last, so I know it's in the end of the cart when I get to T-Hoe, and put it in my soft-side cooler first.
The checker was holding my hot chicken hostage. She had set it lengthwise (!) down in a bag, and it was turning on the carousel as she bagged other items. Not turning all the way around, where I could get it, but back and forth, on the checker's whim, as she decided what she was bagging together. You know, because my sorting wasn't good enough.
As the cold stuff came to the sensor, the checker put in the cheese block with the bag of limes. The bananas had been bagged with the box of granola bars. I didn't say anything, even though I didn't want my bananas exposed to the sharp corners of the granola bar box. I drew the line, though, when she took my little container of cold chicken wings, and put them down beside the hot fried chicken.
"No. I'd rather not have my cold chicken wings bagged with the hot chicken."
That checker looked at me like I was overstepping my bounds. I thought for a minute she might twirl her crazy finger near her temple. What she did instead was take out both the hot fried chicken, and the cold chicken wings, and proceed to set each one down on top of the carousel while she felt the top and bottom of the other container with both hands. All the while, looking me in the eye! That's some creepy stuff. She finally put the hot chicken in a bag by itself and handed it to me. Then put the cold chicken in with the granola bars and bananas.
As soon as I got to T-Hoe, I put the limes with the bananas, the granola bars with the cereal, and all the cold stuff in one bag to go in the soft-side cooler.
Sheesh! That checker was pretty much calling me out, doubting that I had both hot and cold chicken. You'd think she'd realize that. You know, working there every day. This is the second checker I've had to caution about putting cold items with hot, and they both acted all put-out with me for mentioning it. The other one wasn't this psycho, though.
I wanted to twirl my crazy finger, but I was too scared.
These days, it's like the customer is never right. They're an annoyance.
I'd be satisfied if I could be right at least half of the time. Walk in, do my business, no hassles, nothing out of the ordinary. Just pay for my items and leave.
Friday, I set out my Walmart purchases on the conveyor. I am a well-known grouper. Boxes with boxes, produce with produce, cold with cold. All the checker need do is run the stuff over the sensor, and put it in a bag. It's GROUPED with what it needs to be bagged with. That wasn't good enough for my checker.
I started with the fried chicken. It was hot from the deli warmer, and I didn't want it bagged with anything else. In fact, as soon as I get it to T-Hoe, I take it out of the bag so it doesn't sweat. Nobody wants sweaty chicken. Boxes of stuff were next. Some crunchy oats and honey granola bars, an assortment of mini cereal boxes. Then Hick's loose bottles of strawberry banana flavored water, six of them. The produce was next, a bag of limes, a bunch of bananas. Lastly, I had a few cold items grouped together. A block of extra-sharp cheddar, some bratwursts, BBQ pulled pork, and a pack of eight fried chicken wings from the deli refrigerator case.
I had my eye on that checker. Usually, they will bag up my hot fried chicken, and set it on top of the bag carousel, where I pick it up and put it in the child seat of the cart. Just to keep track of it. Same way, I put my cold stuff last, so I know it's in the end of the cart when I get to T-Hoe, and put it in my soft-side cooler first.
The checker was holding my hot chicken hostage. She had set it lengthwise (!) down in a bag, and it was turning on the carousel as she bagged other items. Not turning all the way around, where I could get it, but back and forth, on the checker's whim, as she decided what she was bagging together. You know, because my sorting wasn't good enough.
As the cold stuff came to the sensor, the checker put in the cheese block with the bag of limes. The bananas had been bagged with the box of granola bars. I didn't say anything, even though I didn't want my bananas exposed to the sharp corners of the granola bar box. I drew the line, though, when she took my little container of cold chicken wings, and put them down beside the hot fried chicken.
"No. I'd rather not have my cold chicken wings bagged with the hot chicken."
That checker looked at me like I was overstepping my bounds. I thought for a minute she might twirl her crazy finger near her temple. What she did instead was take out both the hot fried chicken, and the cold chicken wings, and proceed to set each one down on top of the carousel while she felt the top and bottom of the other container with both hands. All the while, looking me in the eye! That's some creepy stuff. She finally put the hot chicken in a bag by itself and handed it to me. Then put the cold chicken in with the granola bars and bananas.
As soon as I got to T-Hoe, I put the limes with the bananas, the granola bars with the cereal, and all the cold stuff in one bag to go in the soft-side cooler.
Sheesh! That checker was pretty much calling me out, doubting that I had both hot and cold chicken. You'd think she'd realize that. You know, working there every day. This is the second checker I've had to caution about putting cold items with hot, and they both acted all put-out with me for mentioning it. The other one wasn't this psycho, though.
I wanted to twirl my crazy finger, but I was too scared.
Tuesday, April 16, 2019
Because Val Is a Giver Like That
Our casino visit last Thursday was nothing to write a blog post about. Of course that's not stopping me. We figured that since we were in the city to cash in my $1000 scratcher winner, we might as well run by our second-favorite casino for lunch and some slots. Yes, Val was feeling slotty.
Before leaving home, I sent a text to my sister the ex-mayor's wife. She thought something was wrong, for me to be up SO EARLY at 8:30. I told her of our plans, and she said that she and the Ex-Mayor had talked about running up to the casino, since their cleaning lady was coming, and they wanted to be out of the house. We agreed to meet up for lunch at the casino.
Hick and I got there around 10:30, and Sis arrived around 11:00. We went our separate ways to gamble until noon. Can you believe that the casino has rearranged their slots? They also switched management companies, and some slots had newer versions. I switched up my favorites, with some success. If you call success not losing as much as usual at this casino. Don't worry. We didn't lose my lottery winnings. Hick had his own money, and the lottery pays by check. So my fortune was safe in the car with the valet (!).
One good thing about changing ownership, I guess, was that Burger Brothers inside the casino didn't have that little guy who always messes up my order. I didn't give the new one a chance, choosing a giant hot dog instead of a burger. It was delicious. In fact, Sis looked longingly at it, and said she would get it next time, rather than her bowl of chili and burger with only cheese. Not an adventurous eater, my sister. She even picked out the tomatoes and peppers in her chili. The Ex-Mayor had the Italian sausage and onion rings, and left the bun and half of the peppers and onions uneaten. Hick was the only normal one of us, having a burger with pepper jack cheese and everything but the special sauce (which is especially not tasty) and onion rings. I wish I had taken a picture, but it's just as well, because I'm not sure I could have fit the whole hot dog in the photo.
After lunch, I had a bit of success, playing for 90 minutes on less than $10. Before you go thinking I was low-rolling at a penny a spin, let the record show that I went to the 3-reel, old-timey, quarter slots. Just to be different. Well, that... and the memory of the Ex-Mayor there last time we went, winning a $600 jackpot on one of them. I didn't win a $600 jackpot, but I won SOMETHING.
I don't know exactly what. I know that I put a twenty in the machine, and I think I had less than ten dollars in it at the time I hit these fives. If you zoom in, you can see the amount of $111.75. That includes what I had in it. This was a quarter machine, and I was playing 75 cents a spin. I'm thinking maybe the fives gave me 15 credits, which were multiplied by three and then three again, for those triple symbols. That would have given me 135 credits, which would be $101.25 on that line hit. I don't even know the name of the slot. I think it might have been Triple Blazing 7s.
Anyhoo... I had given the slots so much money before lunch that this didn't make me come out a winner. But I cashed it out and didn't play it back. None of us left as winners, but we all lost less than usual. Plus we had a good lunch.
Also, we discovered that half of the whole casino is now NON-SMOKING! Of course it's the side with the older slots, like the 3-reels. Sis and I spent most of our time in that area, since we are both still battling the cough that we acquired on CasinoPalooza 4, which was THREE WEEKS AGO.
Of course every party has its pooper, and the poopers on this day were two young fellows, probably a few hours over 21, who stood RIGHT BY a sign than said NO SMOKING AREA, puffing away on their cigarettes.
I made sure to cough as I walked by them.
Before leaving home, I sent a text to my sister the ex-mayor's wife. She thought something was wrong, for me to be up SO EARLY at 8:30. I told her of our plans, and she said that she and the Ex-Mayor had talked about running up to the casino, since their cleaning lady was coming, and they wanted to be out of the house. We agreed to meet up for lunch at the casino.
Hick and I got there around 10:30, and Sis arrived around 11:00. We went our separate ways to gamble until noon. Can you believe that the casino has rearranged their slots? They also switched management companies, and some slots had newer versions. I switched up my favorites, with some success. If you call success not losing as much as usual at this casino. Don't worry. We didn't lose my lottery winnings. Hick had his own money, and the lottery pays by check. So my fortune was safe in the car with the valet (!).
One good thing about changing ownership, I guess, was that Burger Brothers inside the casino didn't have that little guy who always messes up my order. I didn't give the new one a chance, choosing a giant hot dog instead of a burger. It was delicious. In fact, Sis looked longingly at it, and said she would get it next time, rather than her bowl of chili and burger with only cheese. Not an adventurous eater, my sister. She even picked out the tomatoes and peppers in her chili. The Ex-Mayor had the Italian sausage and onion rings, and left the bun and half of the peppers and onions uneaten. Hick was the only normal one of us, having a burger with pepper jack cheese and everything but the special sauce (which is especially not tasty) and onion rings. I wish I had taken a picture, but it's just as well, because I'm not sure I could have fit the whole hot dog in the photo.
After lunch, I had a bit of success, playing for 90 minutes on less than $10. Before you go thinking I was low-rolling at a penny a spin, let the record show that I went to the 3-reel, old-timey, quarter slots. Just to be different. Well, that... and the memory of the Ex-Mayor there last time we went, winning a $600 jackpot on one of them. I didn't win a $600 jackpot, but I won SOMETHING.
I don't know exactly what. I know that I put a twenty in the machine, and I think I had less than ten dollars in it at the time I hit these fives. If you zoom in, you can see the amount of $111.75. That includes what I had in it. This was a quarter machine, and I was playing 75 cents a spin. I'm thinking maybe the fives gave me 15 credits, which were multiplied by three and then three again, for those triple symbols. That would have given me 135 credits, which would be $101.25 on that line hit. I don't even know the name of the slot. I think it might have been Triple Blazing 7s.
Anyhoo... I had given the slots so much money before lunch that this didn't make me come out a winner. But I cashed it out and didn't play it back. None of us left as winners, but we all lost less than usual. Plus we had a good lunch.
Also, we discovered that half of the whole casino is now NON-SMOKING! Of course it's the side with the older slots, like the 3-reels. Sis and I spent most of our time in that area, since we are both still battling the cough that we acquired on CasinoPalooza 4, which was THREE WEEKS AGO.
Of course every party has its pooper, and the poopers on this day were two young fellows, probably a few hours over 21, who stood RIGHT BY a sign than said NO SMOKING AREA, puffing away on their cigarettes.
I made sure to cough as I walked by them.
Monday, April 15, 2019
Waitin' at the Car Wash Blues
Val can't write a song or sing like Jim Croce, but she can tell you about the car wash blues.
On Thursday, Hick swove A-Cad to the city so we could cash in my big scratcher winner. On the way back home, we met my sister the ex-mayor's wife and her husband at our second-favorite casino for lunch and some slots. Hick decreed that we leave at 2:00, so we could miss rush hour traffic for our one-hour drive home. I was even two minutes early for departure!
We were about halfway home, southbound on a major interstate, when we noticed traffic backing up on the northbound side. Having swoven this route for over 25 years, Master Sweaver Hick said,
"It doesn't take long to back up. That's going to take along time to clear."
"Yeah. Our side will probably back up, just from the gawkers."
"It happens."
We still had about six miles to go before turning onto our other interstate for the last half of our journey. Going past an exit ramp, I said,
"Now that we're past the exit, I'm surprised you didn't stop for a free car wash."
[Let the record show that we bought A-Cad from a dealer in the area of Hick's Work Town. Part of the perks of the purchase was free car washes as long as we owned the car. Sometimes Hick would drive A-Cad to work, just to get the car wash on his way home. Whenever A-Cad goes to the city, he usually gets a car wash.]
"We're not past it yet. It's the NEXT exit."
"We don't need a car wash today. We might get stuck in traffic if we stop. It's getting closer to rush hour down here. And the gawkers might be looking at that accident on the other side."
"Yeah, I think I'll get a car wash."
"NO! That's why I waited until we were past the exit. I don't WANT a car wash. Is it really that dirty?"
"Yes."
Hick signaled to leave the highway. We went down the outer road to the car dealership. Hick drove A-Cad around back to the car wash.
"Look out! Don't run over that guy."
"He's just a salesman."
"Still. Don't run over him!"
Hick turned toward the car wash. There were six cars already in line!
"See? We don't really need a car wash today. This will take forever."
"It's fine, Val. It won't take that long."
Of course it did. We sat in line, idling, for 35 minutes! You can probably imagine what a scintillating conversationalist Hick is. Most of the time was spent in a disagreement over how cars qualify for the free car wash. There was a sign on the building that said only cars marked with the dealership name (I forget the exact wording) were allowed in the car wash.
"So they have to have it on the back like that? The sticker thing that looks like it's painted on there?"
"No. They could just have a license plate holder."
"I don't think so! They you could use it on all your cars, and get them all washed for free."
"They sell other car brands. Look there's some Toyotas."
"Still. I think they have to have the name on the actual car. Anyway, what are they going to do, have someone run out and say, 'Wait a minute! You didn't buy that car here! Get out of line NOW!' Are they going to reach in and grab the driver? I don't see how they can enforce this unless they screen all cars before they let them in line."
"Yeah. I don't see how they can stop it."
Whew! Finally it was our turn. As we were pulling away from the automatic air dryers, Hick remembered that I hadn't reminded him that he needed to stop and buy some screws for Hick House.
Our one-hour trip home took two hours. All because I had to mention the free car wash.
On Thursday, Hick swove A-Cad to the city so we could cash in my big scratcher winner. On the way back home, we met my sister the ex-mayor's wife and her husband at our second-favorite casino for lunch and some slots. Hick decreed that we leave at 2:00, so we could miss rush hour traffic for our one-hour drive home. I was even two minutes early for departure!
We were about halfway home, southbound on a major interstate, when we noticed traffic backing up on the northbound side. Having swoven this route for over 25 years, Master Sweaver Hick said,
"It doesn't take long to back up. That's going to take along time to clear."
"Yeah. Our side will probably back up, just from the gawkers."
"It happens."
We still had about six miles to go before turning onto our other interstate for the last half of our journey. Going past an exit ramp, I said,
"Now that we're past the exit, I'm surprised you didn't stop for a free car wash."
[Let the record show that we bought A-Cad from a dealer in the area of Hick's Work Town. Part of the perks of the purchase was free car washes as long as we owned the car. Sometimes Hick would drive A-Cad to work, just to get the car wash on his way home. Whenever A-Cad goes to the city, he usually gets a car wash.]
"We're not past it yet. It's the NEXT exit."
"We don't need a car wash today. We might get stuck in traffic if we stop. It's getting closer to rush hour down here. And the gawkers might be looking at that accident on the other side."
"Yeah, I think I'll get a car wash."
"NO! That's why I waited until we were past the exit. I don't WANT a car wash. Is it really that dirty?"
"Yes."
Hick signaled to leave the highway. We went down the outer road to the car dealership. Hick drove A-Cad around back to the car wash.
"Look out! Don't run over that guy."
"He's just a salesman."
"Still. Don't run over him!"
Hick turned toward the car wash. There were six cars already in line!
"See? We don't really need a car wash today. This will take forever."
"It's fine, Val. It won't take that long."
Of course it did. We sat in line, idling, for 35 minutes! You can probably imagine what a scintillating conversationalist Hick is. Most of the time was spent in a disagreement over how cars qualify for the free car wash. There was a sign on the building that said only cars marked with the dealership name (I forget the exact wording) were allowed in the car wash.
"So they have to have it on the back like that? The sticker thing that looks like it's painted on there?"
"No. They could just have a license plate holder."
"I don't think so! They you could use it on all your cars, and get them all washed for free."
"They sell other car brands. Look there's some Toyotas."
"Still. I think they have to have the name on the actual car. Anyway, what are they going to do, have someone run out and say, 'Wait a minute! You didn't buy that car here! Get out of line NOW!' Are they going to reach in and grab the driver? I don't see how they can enforce this unless they screen all cars before they let them in line."
"Yeah. I don't see how they can stop it."
Whew! Finally it was our turn. As we were pulling away from the automatic air dryers, Hick remembered that I hadn't reminded him that he needed to stop and buy some screws for Hick House.
Our one-hour trip home took two hours. All because I had to mention the free car wash.
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