This afternoon, I made a trip to town to put yesterday's insurance check in the bank. What? Did you think I risked life and limb just to procure a 44 oz. Diet Coke? No sirree, Bob! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was only replenishing the coffers for the payment to be made to the roofers.
The roads here in Outer Hillmomba were treacherous, even at 1:00. The sun was out for some melting, but not on our gravel or the blacktop county road. The lettered highway was clear, but not so all side streets. Farmer H had sent me a text this morning upon his arrival at work. He said the roads were terrible, and that his car, formerly my mom's Trailblazer, was useless. Au contraire. I replied that perhaps he was driving on ICE, a road coating upon which no vehicle is trusty. He agreed, having tried to put his auto in all-wheel drive and then 4WD Low. I, too encountered some slippery patches in trusty T-Hoe, even in 4WD.
On the way back from the bank, we stopped at a Save A Lot for The Pony to run in for some nacho chips. Of course he got the wrong kind, a fact which does not surprise me, but which I should have discovered the moment he put the bag in the car, and not upon unbagging them at home for my lunch. He had picked up the thick, salted kind, of which I already have two unopened bags in the pantry, and not the thin, crisp, unsalted restaurant kind from which I like to make super nachos. My fault, still, for not inspecting his purchase before we left the parking lot.
The reason for my distraction was Farmer H. The Pony had sent him a text to report the deposit of the insurance check, and the immediate availability of the funds. Farmer H replied that he would contact the roofer, who had given him a receipt already for PAID IN FULL, because the insurance would not issue the roof money without proof that we had paid for the roof. Ain't that a sticky wicket? If people need insurance money to pay for a new roof, why do they have to pay for the new roof before they can get the insurance money? Thank the Gummi Mary, Farmer H has a stable of tradesmen who are willing to do things his way.
Farmer H also gave me a bit of unfortunate news about my cousin who bought Mom's house. He elaborated: I sent you an email.
I checked my phone. No email from Farmer H. We went back and forth, me telling him that I did not get it. He telling me that he sent it.
"Apparently not. I suppose somebody else got my cousin's confidential information."
"No. I sent it to your email."
I made him verify the email address. Except for having a capital letter at the beginning, and a space in the middle, it was the same.
"No space. No capital."
"I didn't put one. That's just my bad texting."
"Well, I didn't get the email."
"Oh. It's sent to home."
"The email doesn't know if it's going home or to my phone. It's the same account. That one comes in on my phone, too."
Farmer H declared that he had to get back to work. And I had to get to Domino's to pick up pizza for The Pony, who has been off his feed since Friday, when he came down with a sore throat and cough.
Once we got home, I sat down at my New Delly and saw that Farmer H had indeed sent me an email at 1:30. Once I opened it, that darn thing popped up on my phone and showed 'read.' I guess the email knew it was being sent home all along.
You can be sure I am not going to tell Farmer H that fact.