Not Enough Caution, Too Much Optimism

Saturday night was not good for Mrs. HM. Up every hour. Struggle to sleep. Still had the dizzies. Moving kind of slow all day Sunday, until I tried another shower around 4:30. I think I lasted an extra two minutes in the hot water this time. Some progress.

The Pony was off. He fetched things for me, and warmed my pizza lunch. As long as I was sitting still, I was fine. I am trying to get a lot of rest, but at least get up and move around.

Farmer H brought me the DQ grilled chicken sandwich for supper, since he was gone all day. I swear, I don't know what else those freaks can think of to do wrong with this sandwich! This time, it had the fibrous over-cooked layers of meat on the bottom, AND a tomato slice that was a half-inch thick with that green stem part through the middle of it.

I just want to get better.

Cautiously Optimistic

Saturday, I awoke with the slim hope that I am getting better. I had slept a solid 3.5 hours without waking every hour. I wasn't freezing. I got up around 10:30 and took my regular medicines. My temperature was only 99!

Since I was feeling kind-of okay, not extremely nauseous, I decided to wash the dishes that have been sitting beside the sink. I was kind of weak walking around to the sink. I did not like the cold shower that sprayed out of the dang spigot that Farmer H won't treat with vinegar to make it stop doing that. But sooon enough, I had hot water in which to plunge my hands. 

I washed the container from the delicious noodle/chicken/mushroom/pea dish that went to waste because we got sick right after I made it. And a pan from The Pony's supper, and a pan from my oatmeal, which wasn't really dirty, but looked like it hadn't been clean to start with.

WHOA! Too much! So exhausted. I hobbled back to the table and HIPPIE. Rested a minute. Read some internets. I was again feeling kind-of okay. So I decided to write out the bills for Pony House expenses. About halfway through, I started to regret it. But I had to finish.

Then Farmer H came home with my DQ grilled chicken sandwich. I mustered the strength to take it to the living room and eat it. Took about a half hour. He was watching that dang Barrett/Jackson Auto Auction. I KNEW he would fall asleep in his recliner. Yet he wouldn't give me the remote. Kept it where I couldn't reach it. So I got stuck watching an hour of that dang show. Then he denied sleeping.

I took a shower, but got SO EXHAUSTED that I couldn't stay in that delicious hot water very long. Then Farmer H went to the auction, and I waited on The Pony to get home.

I tried putting on socks standing at the piano bench, like I always do. I almost fell over! Pony had to rush over to help. This dizziness is a pain.

Pony agrees that I am getting better, but that I just overdid it today. I hope he's right.

The Under-Roof Castle King Strikes Again

On Wednesday, The Pony picked up Domino's Pizza for himself. He also asked if Farmer H wanted some. He did. I did not. The Pony has a standard order. He knows what pizza and what bread bites and which sauces he will need to get two days out of his meal.

Farmer H ate half his pizza on Wednesday. Then the other half on Thursday. I was sitting on the short couch, trying to get warm under the afghan, and didn't really pay attention to Farmer H. He had microwaved his pizza, and was traipsing back and forth starting a bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom.

It wasn't until The Pony was home, leaning over the long couch, that I noticed something amiss.

"Pony? Was Dad supposed to have garlic butter?"

"No?"

Yet we both saw the empty container on Farmer H's plate.

"You took The Pony's garlic butter. He was counting on that for tonight."

"If I want garlic butter, I'll have garlic butter!"

"That is so unfair!"

"You've let me have it before."

"Dad. You always ask, and I get extra so you can have some. But this time you just took it."

"I'm not gonna ask if I can have some garlic butter."

It's a losing battle.

Broken Record, Day 7

I know my tales have become dreary. I feel bad for you, but I feel even worse for The Pony. Poor Pony. I've told him he can wake me to say goodbye when he leaves around 7:15. I know he's worried about me and my malaise. 

Every day, he's so chipper. 

"Bye, Mom. Do you think you might be feeling a little bit better? Just a little? Or at least are you not feeling worse?"

So far, it hasn't really been worse.

Right now it's 11:10 p.m. Thursday night. I still have a cup and a half of water to drink. And I need to make a bowl of oatmeal so I have something in my stomach for the vitamin and aspirin land on. Last night I had the Maple Brown Sugar instant oatmeal. 

It was SO SWEET. It's been a while since I had some. Almost too sweet.

Being Sick Is Hard Work

I'm exhausted from trying to drink 8 cups of water a day. From shivering so hard that my sinews twang like banjo strings. Tuesday night, I'm surprised Farmer H didn't think I was possessed, I was shaking the bed so much. I had to go get the afghan from the living room, and drape it over the regular blanket on my side of the bed. A couple hours later found me almost incinerated! 

I took a bathroom break. My cheeks in the mirror were the color of a red Solo cup. When I laid back down, I didn't put on any cover. That lasted about a half hour. Then I got chilly again. This fever won't quit. I can't decide if the fever or the nausea or the dizziness is worse. Depends on which one I'm experiencing at the time, I guess.

The best part of the day is when Farmer H brings me that DQ grilled chicken sandwich around 2:00. By 3:00, I can work up to eating it. Wednesday, it was the SADDEST chicken sandwich I ever saw! The bun was round, but the tiny scrap of chicken was like a Vienna Sausage. It was still tasty.

Right now I have to get ready for my Z-Pack pill. I'm making a frozen chicken patty, with BBQ sauce. Also some saltine crackers. It's 6:38 p.m., and I'm on my 4th cup of water. Four to go.

I'm hoping to sit up on the couch long enough to watch The Amazing Race. They're bungee jumping off some incredibly high structure. That might take my mind off my sickness for a while.

Mrs HM Is Somewhat Conveniently Cared For (PT 2)

When we last convened, Mrs. HM was sitting in the waiting room of convenient care, clinging to her sanity by a thread. One, by one, the other denizens were called back. The 50ish Hacker. The Heavy-Breathing Lithe Man Dressed in Black. The Congested Blond Moppet. And then it was just me and Father/Daughter.

The door to the inner sanctum flung open, and a gal announced: "HM." Only my real name, of course. I knew I wasn't next. Father/Daughter stood and ambled over. Huh. Who knew there was so many HMs in this area?

When it was finally my turn, I tottered precariously on my dizzy legs. Did the weigh in, not even caring enough to take off my jacket. Sat in the room and gave my complaints, and got vitals taken. Then the NP came in. She was not the one I had last time, who cured my double ear infection. That one looked like an earth mother cross between a former colleague, and Genius's friend's mom. THIS ONE looked like a bird. Beaky and beady-eyed.

For some reason, Birdy seemed to doubt my symptoms. It didn't help that my traitorous temperature was only 99 when shot with a temple gun.

"Do you have THE VIRUS?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Do you want a test?"

"Why? It's not like you'd give me any kind of treatment..."

Birdy shrugged, as in, "Touche!" I had her there.

"Three days of fever for a sinus infection is unusual."

"It's how I felt last time."

"You have a little congestion, and some color on the right side."

"I had a cold last Monday. Lasted four days, and I was over it. But then on Saturday, this congestion and bloody snot started."

"Oh! That makes much more sense. You got over it, then it came back."

"Last time I got doxycycline, and that worked."

"Huh. How about a Z-Pack? Are you able to take Azithromycin?"

"I've had it before."

"Let me go compare it to your other medications. We'll see which is best."

She came back shortly. Said she was calling in the Z-Pack. No idea what's wrong with me, or why I'm so dizzy. To follow up with my doctor if that continues.

Farmer H drove across the street to my pharmacy and got my Z-Pack. I felt SO BAD. Nothing to eat or drink without feeling nauseated. I did tell him that maybe a DQ grilled chicken sandwich would stay down. My sweet baboo got it for me.

Once home, Pony got my first two pills out of that blister pack. I took a bite of my chicken sandwich, and IT WAS SO TOUGH!

"I HEARD THAT, Mom! How disappointing."

"Yeah. I jammed my teeth together. Now I will have teeth too big for my mouth again. But the rest of it looks okay. I just have to take tiny bites."

As I write this Tuesday night, I've spent another day mostly sleeping. Still dizzy. Still fevered, though it went away for a couple hours around noon. And it seems to stay at 100 or less. Farmer H brought me another chicken sandwich around 3:00. That, and a Hawaiian Roll, plus a banana, was an improvement on my diet. For supper before the next Z-Pill, I had a plain chicken patty dipped in BBQ sauce. It might be the best thing I've eaten in four days. Right now I'm having a few saltines with my nightly aspirin.

I really wish I could get over this dizzy/nausea/fever thing. I did manage to work in a shower, but had to cut it short when my dizziness took over.

Mrs HM Is Somewhat Conveniently Cared For (PT 1)

You KNOW Mrs. HM is sick when she asks Farmer H to sweave her to convenient care.

Monday saw me lying abed until noon. I'd been in bed off and on since 9:30 the previous evening. Still chilled to the bone. Yet at noon, I felt cozy. Comfy. The right temp. A check of the thermometer showed the fever was gone. For a while... 

By 3:00, I was back in bed, snoozing for a half hour. Cold again. Farmer H came home. I said if I wasn't better by Tuesday, I wanted him to take me to convenient care. He said, "Let's go now."

Since I was chilled, and back at 99.4, I agreed. Not even a shower. The thought of stepping out all wet made me freeze a little inside. At least it wasn't 101, but who knew how high that fever might climb again. I'd already given it since the wee hours of Saturday morning.

Of course, the problem with going to convenient care at 4:00 is that it's not all that convenient. I prefer to go just after noon, when few people are there. However, I hadn't noticed more than a couple cars there over the past week when I was in town. Monday evening, the parking lot was about half full.

Farmer H did not go in with me. They would have allowed it, and I would have liked the support as I wobbled in, but he said he didn't think he needed to go. I sure didn't want to expose him to any new germs, either. So in I toddled. Strapped on my mask at the door.

Once in the inner sanctum, I was reminded of the railyard scene in Gone With the Wind! Bodies as far as the eye could see! Only these were alive, and not soldiers. Okay. Maybe not quite that many, either. A hacking 50ish housewife, a heavy-breathing lithe man dressed in black, a young mother with the cutest little blond moppet you ever saw, and the father-daughter duo at the window ahead of me.

I hung back, leaning on the wooden rail along the wall. I was NOT feeling good. This was almost too much to bear, standing to wait my turn. I swear that guy was filling out his paperwork there. The receptionist asked assorted questions. Seems the insurance wasn't right. Tried another. Said it might have been for the girl's athletic physical in their system. Although she did not look very athletic. After about 10 minutes, they went to sit near the lithe man filling out his own paperwork.

I checked in quickly, since I'd been there a couple months back with the double ear infection. My complaint this time was that I might have another sinus or ear infection. Three-day fever, and dizziness. I sat down parallel to the 50ish Hacker. Across from Father-Daughter. Catty-corner from Cute Blond Moppet. Who was hacking a lot of congestion. No mask on the little shaver. His mom got up for some tissues, and had him blow three times. I sent Farmer H a text that I was 5th in line, and he might as well go mail that check (in its third envelope) to the Gravel Guy.

The only thing keeping me sane was gripping my cell phone, and texting Farmer H the countdown until my turn. If I'd been home, I would not have been sitting up for 45 minutes. But here I had to. And to look not-crazy. At least I wasn't shivering. The room temp, in my jacket, was pleasant. Maybe like a freezing person feels warm right before dying!

More tomorrow. It's now 10:38 p.m. My energy is ebbing, and I'm fighting HIPPIE's keyboard.

The Relapse Of Mrs. HM

Sweet Gummi Mary! Just when I thought I'd beat the sickness spread to me by Farmer H, a relapse has occurred! You may recall that The Pony has not been feeling his best. Starting on Wednesday at work, thinking he might miss a day, then working Thursday and Friday. Well. It caught up to him. He had to call in on Saturday, due to chills all night, and possible fever. He said he'd been blowing out snot flecked with blood. He DID make it to work on Sunday, and says he feels better.

HOWEVER... on Saturday, the 6th day of my sickness, just as I was feeling healed... my sinuses clogged up. I was blowing out bloody snot. I didn't FEEL bad. Except for the fever. Yes. The return of the fever. Whereas it had been 100 with my first sickness, it was 100.6 with this one. AND went up to 101 as I was making some supper for The Pony on Sunday evening. But it gets worse!

I was sitting at the kitchen table, having just returned from a bathroom visit, chatting with The Pony about feeling beat down by my fever... when I started to see black spots. The whole room was going dark. 

"Oh, no! I don't feel so good. Something is wrong. I might faint. I don't hurt. I can breathe. But I'm going to pass out!"

I turned toward the table, and put my head down on it. The Pony dashed around bringing me water, a piece of a Symphony candy bar, an aspirin, and the Hawaiian Roll I asked for. You see, I had not eaten since some Cheerios around 4:00. Now at 7:30, I was feeling nauseated. Not like eating or drinking. Farmer H asked if I needed to go to the ER. Nope! They're not gonna kill Mrs. HM like that!

After about 5 minutes of wavering in the dark/light, the black spots began to slowly recede. I felt faint sweat beads along my hairline. I think the fever broke. I got the aspirin down, and a bite of the best Hawaiian Roll I ever tasted. The chocolate wasn't bad, either. It's like my congestion all went away, and I could taste a little bit again.

I don't know what's going on. For sure I was dehydrated, since I hadn't felt like drinking. Yet still having to go pee every hour. Whatever is wrong with me, I hope I'm coming out the other side.

I don't even want to go to my lair. Staying upstairs Sunday night. Drinking water. I hate being sick.

The Pony, however, says he feels pretty good.

Another Farmer H Atrocity Uncovered

I might have discovered why it took Farmer H over 90 minutes to get a heated water bowl for Jack and Juno. All by accident. And thanks to carelessness on the part of Farmer H.

As you know, Farmer H is allowed to use the debit card, but not to carry the checkbook register, or write checks without permission from me. He always waits until I'm at my busiest to lay the assorted receipts on my glasses case on the kitchen counter. Or else he does it secretively after I go to my lair. Also, he folds every receipt in a different direction, to a different size. It's like when the students would bring me an absentee slip, and toss the crumpled thing on my desk.

Farmer H's mistake was that he included the water dish, dog food, and Lowe's receipts all at once. So I couldn't just hurriedly write down the amount. I had to pay attention. Due to Pony House money on the Lowe's receipt. I actually looked at the itemized list of goods on the receipts.

The water bowl was $19.99. But there were two other entries. A Diet Dr. Pepper. And FRUIT SLICES for around $3. What in the Not-Heaven? I can bet that Farmer H did not find a platter of healthy actual fruit slices at Tractor Supply. HE BOUGHT CANDY!

I don't even mind that he spent our house money on his treat. I mind that he bought SECRET CANDY when he is not supposed to have sugar. He might have been in a coma for part of that 90 minutes! I was telling Pony about it on Saturday afternoon.

"Mom. I hear him. He's coming in the door any minute."

Which he did. Freezing me half to death with the chilly air blowing around my bare ankles as I sat at HIPPIE at the kitchen table.

"Um. Is there something you forgot to mention that you bought with the water bowl?"

"No. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe something like FRUIT SLICES?"

"Oh. Well. Yeah."

"Where are they?"

"Right here."

Farmer H waved his left arm in a sweeping motion, gesturing from table to door.

"Uh. I'm not seeing them."

"Right here, HM."

Farmer H picked up the coat he'd put on top of the cap he'd put on top of a cardboard box on a chair by the kitchen door. He reached down in the box, and pulled out a clear cellophane bag, about 1/3 full of multicolored candy fruit slices.

"I had to get me some orange slices. I love orange slices."

"Well. I might like them too. Now that I know where they are, I'll be eating them, since they ARE UNDER MY ROOF!"

"Go ahead. Have some."

I didn't really want any fruit slices. Just to make a point. Farmer H was caught in his web of deceit. What else COULD he do, but "allow" me to have some of his special treat.

Like The Pony said, "Mom. You probably wouldn't like having that gummi stuff stuck in your teeth."

Nope. But it sure was fun to act like Farmer H.

Farmer H Goes Too Far

 Farmer H is skating on thin ice. Much thinner than the ice on the dogs' water bowl. 

I came home from town Friday, and gave Juno and Jack and Copper Jack some leftover pizza crust. Little Jack trotted around the corner of the kitchen. He does that, to preserve his treat so it isn't ripped away by Juno. I had gone into the laundry room to get the bag of frozen chicken out of the mini freezer, and saw Jack outside the door. He was trying to get a drink.

 

What in the NOT-HEAVEN? That water bowl was frozen solid! It's a heated bowl. Plugs into the outdoor outlet. I remember that about a month ago, when we started dipping below freezing overnight, Farmer H had said

 

"The dogs' water bowl ain't workin'. I need to get another one."

 

"Yeah. They've gotta have water."

 

Of course I assumed Farmer H had taken care of that task. You know, on one of his daily trips to Lowe's or Menard's. If I hadn't been getting chicken, I wouldn't have seen my poor little Jack licking at the circular ice cube. Which had a crack in the middle like once upon a time a little dog's sturdy paw might have tried to get to some still-liquid water under the surface.

 

"Oh, Jack! Do you need water? Here. Let me get some."

 

I took the pitcher from the back porch, and filled it from the laundry sink. Poured that on top of the cube. I knew it wouldn't last long, but at least Jack could have a drink. He did. A nice long drink. When Farmer H came home, it was time for the interrogation. I didn't even wait until we sat down for This Is the Time of Day When We Discuss the Most Recent Thing You've Done Wrong.

 

"The dogs don't have any water! They might not have had it since Wednesday, unless you've been giving them some in the mornings. Their bowl is frozen solid!"

 

"I told you it didn't work."

 

"I KNOW! I thought you were getting a new one. Over a month ago!"

 

"I never said that. I said the water bowl quit working, and I needed to get another one. And you said, 'Nah, they can drink out of the creek.'"

 

"NO I DIDN'T! I'D NEVER SAY THAT! Don't you think the creek is frozen, too? It is down by the mailboxes. How are these dogs supposed to drink? They'll die!"

 

"You DID tell me that."

 

"NO! That's something like YOU would say. They need a water bowl. They shouldn't have to run down to the creek for a drink."

 

"You don't remember nothin'!"

 

"I think maybe that's YOU. You didn't remember to get a water bowl. All this time, and I thought they had one."

 

"Fine! You always want to blame me. I'll go right now and get one. Then it's done."

 

Well. That would make sense. Off he went. For over an hour. Ninety minutes.

 

"What took so long?"

 

"I went to the place by my Storage Unit Store, but it was closed. So I went to Walmart. They didn't have one. I had to drive all the way over to Bill-Paying Town, where I found one at Tractor Supply. I got them the food they like while I was there, too. They was out of food anyway..."

 

SWEET GUMMI MARY! No wonder Jack and Juno pounced on that dry dog biscuit I gave them as I left. They are normally indifferent, because it's not a chicken meatball. But this day, they wolfed them down. I guess maybe Farmer H hadn't fed them anything.

"Did Juno come around to get water when you put in the new bowl?"

"No. But she ate every bit of the bowl of food I gave her."

Well. There's that. At least my fit-throwing got Juno a full belly. It's bad enough that Farmer H didn't get the water bowl in a timely manner. But so much worse that he tried to blame ME for not getting it!

Amazing Revelations

Wow! I woke up Thursday morning, and it took me about five minutes to remember I was sick. Just a tiny cough. But when I speak, it SOUNDS like I'm sick. A hoarseness from all the HARUMPHING. Also a little dizziness, which could be dehydration, or an ear thing returning. I'm still tired and moving slowly, and get a bit short of breath. But overall, it's like being over a cold and returning to normal. Only 4 days! 

 

Farmer H has been working on Pony House, leaving home around 7:00, and returning by 2:00. He says he's not quite over it, that he gets tired easily. No bad cough, but more of one than mine. He's on Day 7. He also has some medical issues which I believe his nurse practitioner is using to try to kill him! Maybe a story on that later.

The Pony survived the single-digit wind chills on Wednesday. He had to work 11.5 hours, because five employees called out, and two others were already out with the VIRUS. He said his ears were feeling funny, like maybe he was getting what Farmer H and I had. Or else it was from wearing a hood all day.

Farmer H and I emphasized that if he called out, he should get to Convenient Care and have them check his ears. Because when he gets those ear infections, he's out of commission for at least a week. No used letting it go. It could cost him work time. The Pony must have figured it wasn't an ear infection, because he got up and went to work Thursday with a morning temp of 7 degrees. It got up to 22. He worked 11 hours, I think.

"When I went to town, I saw five LLVs parked at the repair shop."

"I think I might know why we have so many sitting there! You know how I said our postmaster is never coming back? And we're losing one manager, too? Well. The acting postmaster found out the trash wasn't being picked up--remember that dumpster that was overflowing by the steps--because the bill was not paid two weeks ago when it was due! So I'm thinking maybe the car repair guy didn't get paid, either. Just a theory."

"That could explain it."

 

Okay. Not so amazing. But stuff you didn't know before.

Something Fishy At The Mansion

As I was lying on my deathbed--I mean catching some ZZZZZs with the blanket over my head while fighting my 100-degree fever--Farmer H volunteered to go get Captain D's fish for our supper. I wasn't feeling all that hungry, but I won't turn town Captain D's fish. I figured I could always save it a day if I didn't want it by the time Farmer H brought his catch home.

"What do you get? The 3 piece fish? What sides?"

"Just the 2 piece fish. And SLAW. And fries."

"I thought you always got broccoli."

"I have in the past. But I don't feel like broccoli. The fries sound really good. I'll warm then in the oven when you get home."

"Okay. I'm going."

This is when Farmer H gave me permission to sleep some more. So I snoozed another hour. My temp had gone down, but came back up after a shower. I wasn't feeling BAD, bad. Just not myself. Because of the fever. I sat around a bit until Pony got home. He had picked up pizza for himself. We chatted, at a distance! And then I went to get my food.

You know where this is going, right?

"WHERE ARE MY FRIES??? Why do I have a bowl of broccoli?"

"You wanted broccoli. That's what you always get."

"I specifically told you NO BROCCOLI! That I wanted FRIES! I've been looking forward to those fries, dipped in ketchup and a little mayo. I already have my ramekins set out for them. Guess I won't need any ramekins for BROCCOLI!"

"You said you wanted it!"

"I don't know why you even pretend to listen when you ask me a question. And why do I have 3 pieces of fish?"

 

"It was only 50 cents more for 3 instead of 2. So I thought it was a better bargain."

Anyhoo... I sadly took 2 oven-warmed fish and microwaved broccoli and cold coleslaw down to my lair. That was the most delicious fish I ever ate!!!

 

This picture does not do it justice. Yes. It was pretty greasy on my paper plate. But it was CRISPY on the outside, and tender on the inside. DELICIOUS!

 

These are not giant family-size serving bowls! It's the flat styrofoam containers Captain D's puts his sides in. They fit into a regular square styrofoam container, each one sitting in a triangle next to the main entree. 

Anyhoo... maybe that broccoli had medicinal qualities. Or maybe it was the fish. Because after eating, I nodded off to sleep while sitting in my rolly chair in front of New Delly. And when I woke up about 20 minutes later, MY FEVER WAS GONE!

I am NOT giving Farmer H credit for the broccoli.

EbeSneezer Dudes

Farmer H is floating down a river in Egypt, dreaming of concubines fanning him with palm fronds and feeding him grapes. HE STILL DENIES MAKING ME SICK! What in the Not-Heaven? All the evidence is there! Saturday was his sickest day, and that's when he close-talked me. I didn't even leave the Mansion.

Sunday, I went ONE PLACE. Didn't interact with anybody. Only got scratchers out of the two Country Mart machines. Not even a 44 oz Diet Coke. It was cold with some remaining snow, and I didn't relish getting out of T-Hoe again.

Monday, I bought some groceries in Country Mart. As I came up the frozen food aisle with the glass doors, looking for boneless skinless chicken breasts, a worker was coming down the aisle. 

ACHOO!

That dude sneezed, and sprayed it all over! Didn't even try to cover his face. Unmasked. I think Country Mart has changed their employee policy. Still. Didn't his momma ever teach him the elbow trick? By the time I got up to the scene of the grime, those particles of snot would have settled. Besides, I did NOT catch my sickness within a couple hours of being exposed!

Also on Monday, I went to the Gas Station Chicken Store. While standing at the counter, I heard a big dude behind me go

ACHOO!

Seriously? What is WRONG with dudes? I guess their snot is like their seed, they hope to spread it far and wide and often!

Anyhoo... here's the sick bay report for today, my second day of illness. I don't really feel bad. It's hard to describe. I've had many colds more miserable than this. It doesn't come close to my double ear infection. On a scale of 1-10, I'd rate it a 2. That said, I don't particularly enjoy being less than 100%.

Monday night, I must have spiked a fever. I didn't have a thermometer in my lair. I felt REALLY cold. I figured it was just the lair, that little radiator heater not working efficiently. Even the countertop of my desk felt cold through my fleece jacket sleeves. Lucky I had a Pony HotHands in my pocket!

I went out to my OPC (Old People Chair) around 3:00 a.m. I could not get warm! I had the heater and the vibrator functions running. In fact, I could have vibrated the chair without turning it on! I couldn't stop shaking! My neck and back muscles felt like over-stretched rubber bands. I could not relax. I had a Christmas Eve Games fleece throw pulled up to my neck. My arms under that blanket, under my jacket, on my bare stomach to feel the warmth. Yet I couldn't stop shaking with cold. That's when I figured I had a fever. 

In fact, I ran a fever for 24 hours. When I checked around 3:00 p.m. it was 100 even. I went back to bed, blanket over my head, for a couple hours. When I got up, it was 99.2. That's not even enough to get sent home from school! Gotta be a full degree over normal. Anyhoo... after a shower, back to 100.

I didn't take anything for the fever, because I figure your body spikes a fever for a reason, to kill off whatever ails you. The worst part of it was the chills, and my hot face, and a slight headache across my forehead from all the HARUMPHing.

 

 

I must say, within 12 hours of taking one of those special vitamins, my wheezing went away! However, I had to pee every hour. Not saying the vitamin caused that, but it might have. Those things are HUGE! I hope I didn't just pay for vitamins, but when that thing dissolves in my stomach, a spongy purple dinosaur pops out. I didn't go to town today (Tuesday), because I was COLD, and because I was sick and contagious with fever.

Do you think Farmer H offered to make me chicken soup, or push me off the wagon with a whiskey-ed hot toddy? Nope. He went to his recliner, and said he didn't care what time I made his supper. AND he gave me permission to sleep an extra hour. What a prince!

The BEST thing Farmer H did was suggest that he go pick up supper. Not that he was thinking of ME, mind you. He just wanted something else besides the polish sausage and onion sandwich I was making.

"They was eating fish on Little House on the Prairie. Do you want me to go get some?"

"Where?"

"Captain D's."

"You want to drive all the way to Bill-Paying Town, just for fish?"

"Yeah. It ain't that far."

More on this story tomorrow...

He's A Getter, He's A Shedder, He's A Super Spreader... He Tries To Kill Me Like It's Fuuuuun

Remember how Farmer H turned up sick on Saturday morning? And how I've been tending to him like I want him to survive? Giving him chicken soup, special vitamins, hot toddies, unlimited recliner time, and delivering red Solo cups of water to his chairside?

That dirty dog gave it to me!

It didn't have to be that way. He's been sick a handful of times over the past year with assorted head colds. I know how to avoid his cooties. 

UNLESS HE'S STANDING 3 FEET AWAY, YELLING AT ME! 

Seriously. I've had enough of the king of his castle forcing his will upon the serfs. Farmer H had come back from trying to pay his Storage Unit Store rent for six months (nobody home at the units), and made a quick trip to Menard's for plumbing supplies for Pony House, and a tub of dog treats I'd asked for. I was sitting at HIPPIE at the kitchen table when he came back.

"Hey! What are you doing? Go on through. I don't want you breathing on me."

"I'm just standing here, putting these dog biscuits in the empty chicken meatball tub. They didn't have any more of those meatballs."

"You can turn sideways! There's no reason to have your face pointing right at me! Or do it at the counter, not the table."

"I'll do it anywhere I want. It's MY house."

"I think we've established that fact already. Just turn halfway, where you're breathing out at the windows, not at my face. I can hear you wheezing. I don't want to breathe your germs."

"I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE LIKE THIS! IT'S RIDICULOUS! I CAN STAND ANYWHERE I WANT!"

"Now you're yelling, so those germs can shoot farther down my throat!"

"JUST STOP ALREADY!"

"I wish YOU'D just stop!"

"You always say I give it to you when you get sick! It's not coming from me!"

"Pretty sure it is. You don't ever think about other people. Just yourself."

Farmer H finally got those dog biscuits poured into the tub, and stomped off to the living room for a short nap before eating the chicken noodle soup I made for him, and drinking the hot toddy.

Anyhoo... two days later, and I have A COUGH! Not a bad cough. A wet, throat-clearing cough that comes and goes. Nothing hacking. More like a HARUMPH to get that fluid out of my upper lungs. I don't feel bad, just kind of chilled. And wheezy. When I lie down, I can't sleep because I hear the crackles and whistles of my alveoli trying to expel that fluid. The nose isn't congested. No headache. No other aches except for the knees, which are always a problem.

The timing points to FARMER H as my infector! I didn't go anywhere on Saturday, because of the snow. And two days later, I have this cough.

Has Farmer H offered to make me soup or a hot toddy? NOT-HEAVEN NO! In fact, now that I don't feel up to snuff, he says HE feels worse. Even though he went over to work on Pony House Monday morning, and was back by noon. I TOLD him that wasn't a good idea, that half a day would be more than enough. 

HARUMPH! Excuse me. I've got some lung fluid to hack up. And a giant horsepill vitamin to swallow.

Oops! They Did It Again

They played with my cart. I lost just the same. They're not. That. Innocent.

Sweet Gummi Mary! The executives who run Country Mart might just as well show up to work every day with an eye patch and a hook-arm, parrot on the shoulder, calling each other Matey, and stopping the music on the store PA system every five minutes to say, "Argh!" while flying the Jolly Roger on the roof.

They are not honest people.

Two weeks ago I bought some Ritz Crackers. We like them with salads. With The Pony's soft cheeses. With regular cheese for Farmer H. I get the big square box that has multiple sleeves of 12-14 crackers. You never know how many are going to be in a sleeve, but that's a Ritz issue, not the executives of Country Mart.

Anyhoo... I didn't have them on my list, but they were on the aisle I walked down to get to the bread. I figured now was as good a time as any to pick some up. We only had two sleeves left in the old box. I saw the box of multi packs, and put it in my cart. It said 16 packs, which I didn't remember as being the count in our current box, and I waffled on getting a bigger box, but went with the 16.

I put it on the kitchen counter. We used the two other sleeves left. Then I opened the new box. Huh. They sure looked different! They weren't in sleeves at all! But in a flat pack, like you get cookies in. AND there were only SIX in a pack! Ain't THAT a fine how-do-you-do? I was not happy about it, but hey, it's only 16 packs. I guess I could have two at a time if I had a big salad and wanted more than six crackers with it.

 

 

Huh. I guess they updated their packaging. This seems quite wasteful, all that wrapping for six individual crackers, when previously they could put 12-14 crackers in a single opaque waxed-paper sleeve. I was even less pleased when I opened my crackers, and saw their condition:

 

 

I rarely got a crushed cracker when they came in a sleeve, unless I did it myself while trying to open it. These crackers were virtually unprotected by their packaging! They had room to slide around all willy-nilly, and some were packed upside down, and the top of the package offered no resistance to something that might press down and break them.

 

Oh, well. You live and learn. I would read the package carefully next time, and make sure I got my sleevy crackers.

I was eating them with some extra-sharp cheddar that I had sliced off a small block left from our Thanksgiving meal, when I had not used it for the 7 Layer Salad. Huh. That's funny. My Ritz tasted different than the Ritz in the sleeve. Kind of like cardboard. I guess that was another drawback of packaging it on a cardboard tray. Huh. This was not very tasty at all. Even though I KNEW the next bite would have a little cardboardy tang to it.

The next time I had Ritz was a few days later, with a salad of romaine and shredded cheddar. Still the same cardboardy flavor. Almost as if... you don't think... I picked up the package to have a look at the date.

22 JUN 2021

Those B@ST@RDS! They had sold me expired foodstuffs AGAIN!

Yes. I DO hear the sing-songy voice of my 2nd best old ex-teaching buddy Karen, asking the eternal question: "When will she EVER learn?" just like when she'd beat me at poker.

I am now checking every gosh-darn date on every product I pick up in that store! I feel like taking the expired ones up front, and announcing loudly, after it's been rung up,

"OH, I DON'T WANT THAT! IT'S EXPIRED!"

But I don't really want to punish the cashiers. It WOULD get the attention of the higher-up who has to come over with a thumbprint and void the transaction.

I'm pretty sure it's their store policy just to quietly put those expired items back on the shelf once I'm gone.

I guess I'll finish eating those Ritz before buying more. They haven't killed me yet. I didn't tell The Pony or Farmer H. Just asked if they'd had any crackers yet. They hadn't. They may not even notice... Says Mrs. HM, adjusting her eye patch.

The Sickening

Farmer H is under the weather. Not yet knock-knock-knockin' on Not-Life's door, but a bit out-of-sorts in the physical realm. I knew something was wrong on Saturday morning. Farmer H left for his Storage Unit Store, even though we had snow falling, with a couple inches on the grassy areas. He was back by 9:00 a.m. I was still in my OPC (Old People Chair), and didn't hear him upstairs. Silence. By 10:00, I was curious. 

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Kind of sleeping in my chair."

"No TV?"

"No. I don't feel good."

I let him go back to sleep while I watched TV. Then went upstairs to interrogate him around noon.

"Do you plan to do anything today?"

"Not really. I don't think I'm going to the auction tonight, either. I might go pay my storage unit rent here in a bit."

"Okay. Do you want those vitamins I got?"

"Yeah."

Here's the thing. I got some vitamins to have on hand. Just in case we came down with something. Just to give our immune system a little boost and maybe speed up the recovery a few days. It has quercetin, zinc, vitamin C, and vitamin D, all in a giant horse pill capsule. Heh, heh! It's NOT horse de-wormer. Just people vitamins combined in one pill.

"You have to eat something with it."

"I'll microwave a hot dog."

So Farmer H ate a hot dog, took a vitamin, and went to town for a couple hours to pay his rent and pick up some toilet plumbing stuff for Pony House. He was home by 3:00, and back in his recliner after a hot bath, for more napping until 5:30.

I made him some chunky chicken noodle soup for supper with a big cup of water. Then I made him a hot toddy. That's whiskey, hot water, honey, and lemon. Only I substituted lime for lemon, because that's what we had on hand. Farmer H drank it like it was good. Then he went to bed at 7:00.

I told him that if he didn't feel like he could sleep (when he has a cold, he says he can't breathe with his breather strapped on), that he could sleep in the recliner. That won't hurt him for a few nights. It negates the need for his breather.

Anyhoo... I'll be getting some more chicken soup on Sunday, and maybe some actual lemons. Farmer H said he has a slight headache, but that might be from not having four or five Diet Mountain Dews, and the lack of caffeine. Also, he said his joints were a little achy. Which may be a real thing, or may be from working on Pony House longer hours for two days this week.

I'm pretty sure Farmer H picked up his sickness AT THE DOCTOR on Wednesday, when he had his regular 6-month appointment. Even though he said nobody else was there. Still, he sat in the waiting room, and touched stuff. He's an eye-rubber. Farmer H thinks he caught it from his Old Man helper, who came back to work at Pony House this week after saying he had the VIRUS, and they gave him a shot at the ER a couple weeks ago. Farmer H said he was still hacking and coughing, even though it's been a couple weeks.

Still, Old Man was back on Monday. Seems like Farmer H would have been feeling poorly before Saturday. The doctor visit fits the timeline better, I think.

It's so exhausting trying to stay away from Farmer H and his cooties. And to practice medicine without a license...

Gravel Gives Farmer H a Disjointed Nose And Injured Feelings

Friday evening, Farmer H left the Mansion at 6:15 to go down to the mailboxes for the road meeting of our enclave. The meeting was supposed to start at 6:30. It takes one minute to get there, but I guess he wasn't taking any chances on it starting without him.

 

I figured I'd be downstairs in my lair with my Chinese food that The Pony brought home, by the time Farmer H returned. But I'd just gotten my tray ready when Farmer H stomped in the kitchen door. To be fair, that is kind of the way he walks. Like he doesn't have feet on the end of his ankles. But I could tell something was wrong. He wasn't his cheery (!) self!

 

"Oh, you're back already?"

 

"Yeah. Good for them if they have the money. They can get gravel and fix the roads."

 

"Did you mention about the bigger rock being the base?"

 

"Yeah, and the guy who called the meeting said, 'That's hard for cars to drive on.' So I seen right away that they're going to do what they want to do. It was the young people out here that are new." [That could be anyone younger than Farmer H, and "new" is anybody who wasn't here when we built the Mansion in 1997.]

 

"Huh. They don't want to hear anything from an old man!"

"They figure, 'These old people have been out here for 20 years, in charge of the roads, and look what they're like now.' So let them do it their way. They didn't want to hear nothin' about putting the rock in the center of the road, so there's a crown, and letting the water run off the sides, not down the middle of the road."

"Oh, well. We paid our part." 

 

"That one lady that lives down here behind us, who said she'd be at the meeting, gave $200. I didn't notice the rest of them giving nothing. And I don't know who put that other load of the little stuff over mine yesterday."

 

Yes. On Thursday, when I got home, there was a load of 1-inch minus on top of the 2-inch plus that Farmer H had delivered. Which is how it should be. Big rock, then smaller rock. But like Farmer H says, when you get the 1-inch minus, you're paying for a lot of dust. Because that's the "minus" part of it. Less than one inch. Indeed, that load did not cover the entire amount that had been spread out by Farmer H's load.

 

Anyhoo... we'll see what they do about the road, and see who complains the loudest. Which is the main reason Farmer H didn't want to be in charge, because there's never any thanks, only complaints. From freeloaders!

 

Let the record show that any time I see someone on a tractor blading the road, I always stop and thank them. Same as when that one old man lived out here, and filled in potholes with a shovel and a bucket of gravel from his pickup truck.

 

Poor Farmer H. Tried to do what was right, and came home with his nose out of joint, and his feelings hurt.

Moon Over My Gravel

I caught a colorful photo down at the end of our gravel road by Mailbox Row. It was two days after Farmer H bought a load of gravel for $175, to have dumped starting at that entrance to our compound. Just a happy accident. I was late leaving for town, and the conditions were just right as I pulled over to pick up the mail coming home around 5:15.

 

When Farmer H got home 15 minutes later, he had to share with me what he saw on the Facebook page of our enclave.

"You know how I said a couple people commented about the gravel? Now they've scheduled a meeting down by the mailboxes on Friday evening at 6:30. This one guy says he called around and got estimates for gravel, and found a guy to haul it for $170 a load."

"That's the other guy you thought about using. The one whose wife works with The Pony."

"Yeah. I've known him for years, but I know the other guy better. That's why when I offered to meet him to pay for the gravel, he said, 'Just mail me a check.' That's how things work when you have connections."

"I see this other guy a lot at the Gas Station Chicken Store, putting diesel in his dump truck. He seems to work a lot. Heh, heh! They probably told him the price you got, and he dropped his by $5 to get the business."

"Probably. It don't matter who hauls it. And this guy out here is at least trying to organize the people. He put on here '...so we can see who's willing to pay their share towards the roads, and see how many loads of gravel we can get. Only two people have responded! One lady says she'll be there, and another guy says, 'Can't make it, but my wife and I will be coming down to our cabin next week, and would like to give some money for the roads.'"

"Just like I said, nobody is going to pay, now that the main part with holes has your gravel on it! And the cabin guy, I can understand that he doesn't live here, so even if he doesn't pay for a whole load, that makes sense. He doesn't use the road as much as everyone else."

"That one lady who asked me about where to get gravel DID thank me for giving her the information. But all those other 15 people who read it are strangely silent. I have a mind to go down to the meeting, just to see who's there and what they decide. At least they know I've already done my part."

Yes. It WILL be interesting to see what goes on at that meeting. It will be dark by then. Not sure I'd want to be sitting in the dark down by the creek.

The Road To Hillmomba Is Paved With Farmer H's Intentions

Our gravel roads are in bad shape for not really having much of a winter yet. We've only had a week or two of freezing and thawing, but the potholes down by the creek are a bone-jarring force to be reckoned with. Several people have been voicing their concerns (complaining) on the Facebook page of our enclave. Saying that we need to have gravel hauled in.

Farmer H and a few other residents used to use their tractors and blade the roads. They'd go door-to-door and ask for donations for gravel. Let the record show that they volunteered their time and tractors and gas, and that every cent was spent on the gravel, at a discount because one of our former residents hauls gravel in his dump truck.

Anyhoo... back then, it was soon apparent which families paid a fair share, and which ones were freeloaders. Nobody begrudged the less income-fortunate for their smaller donations. At least they made the effort. Of course the biggest complainers were those who never gave one red cent.

Anyhoo... some of Farmer H's road crew has moved away, others have aged or have different jobs without much time for working on the roads. Farmer H's "good" tractor is parked over at Pony House, and he's busy with that project. But when he saw the call for gravel, Farmer H picked up the phone, and the very next day had a load delivered down by the creek, at the cost of $175. That's a fair amount as gravel goes around here.

"I got the 2-Inch-Plus. Because I know how that mud down by the creek eats up gravel. That smaller stuff would be gone in no time. Whoever has been blading the roads doesn't do it right. They need to blade the sides, not the middle. That just spreads the gravel off the edges. I used to cut a ditch along the side, for the water to run. Then you dump the rock down the middle, and people driving on it spread it to the edges."

"Well, you're not doing it now. So at least somebody is trying."

"Yeah. That's true."

"Why did you put it down by the creek?"

"Because everybody drives on that part. It would be stupid to put it in front of our field, because then people complain that you only bought gravel for your own part. Even though they drive on it too."

"You have to admit, ours is some of the worst part of the road! That guy with a tractor was out there filling potholes last week."

"Yeah, but more people drive on the other part. If enough of them order gravel, we'll eventually work our way up here. I was surprised that one load went so far."

"It DID go pretty far."

"So the next load can get dumped right where it left off."

"I bet nobody else orders any, now that the main problem area has rock!"

"They may not. 15 people seen where I said I had that load of rock hauled on Facebook."

"Did you tell them how much you paid? And who hauled it?"

"Yes. And two people messaged me and said they'd give me money to get more rock. But I ain't doin' that! I told them the guy's name, and they can arrange it theirself. I'm not going to be the one for people to complain to about the roads! Two of them said they'd give me $100 for rock. That ain't even a whole load. They can get it, and decide where it goes. Some of them think if they pay, it should go in front of their house."

Anyhoo... we'll see if more gravel magically appears.

Farmer H Might Need To Belt The Pony

Farmer H picked up The Pony's USPS pants from the seamstress on Monday. The Pony wore them to work on Tuesday. He's been going in at 8:00 instead of 5:30 this week. He came halfway down the 13 rail-less basement stairs to show me.

 

"Oh, they look good."

 

"Yeah. The length is good. But I need to fix my belt. It doesn't have enough holes in it, since I've lost weight."

 

"You can buy a belt at the Devil's Playground."

 

"Maybe, when I have time off to go there. I was thinking that if I had an awl, 

I could punch a hole in it."

 

"Is that a braided belt? Just poke it through the webbing."

 

"No, it's not braided."

 

"I know Dad has put extra holes in his belt. A long time ago! Not sure what he used. Might have just been his pocket knife. But you can ask him."

 

When The Pony got home from work, he was pleased with his pants.

"They fit fine. I have to admit, you and Dad were right about the 28-inch inseam. I thought I might step on the back, but I didn't. Even without my belt working. And by afternoon, I kind of regretted wearing them. It was almost 50 degrees, and my legs started to sweat. 50 is the cutoff for me wearing shorts."

"See? We're not so stupid."

"You have to admit, the measurement using those other pants WAS 25 inches."

"Yes. But you know these pants wouldn't look good above the ankle like those others."

The Pony went to the long couch, dug around in his pile of accumulated clutter, and pulled out some money. Then grabbed a few other bills off the floor.

"Here. I'm paying Dad for my pants. Twelve dollars. And that's ALL he gets. Exactly twelve dollars."

For someone who doesn't care about money, The Pony is not overly-generous with us...

After All, It's Under His Roof

I baked a bunch of boneless, skinless chicken breasts before I went to town. Farmer H was going to be working late over at Pony House, so I figured he could warm one up for his supper. The Pony wanted some chicken to put in the spicy burritos he makes with assorted oils and pepper and black beans and rice. 

I had a big bag of breasts that I got at Country Mart, still half full. So I put them in one pan. I knew I had some more there somewhere. In sorting through the mini freezer in the laundry room, and the freezer side of FRIG II, I found a bag that expired in June 2020, and one from 2019. Oh, and the recent one I was looking for. Which I put in my other pan to bake. I cut them up and freeze the cooked version in individual servings, for The Pony's burritos, or my chicken bowls that I copy from Hardee's.

After the good breasts were done, I put them in FRIG II, and put the expired ones in the pans to bake, so the dogs can have a few days of hearty treats. I put them on a plate beside the sink to cool, near the big tub of dog meatball treats that is nearly empty now.

"Pony! If you start your food before I get back from town, don't use the DOG CHICKEN! 

I hope Dad doesn't come home early and eat it!"

"Maybe you should label it?"

"I did! I know how he eats the dog bread when I set it out of the cabinet. So there's a paper plate labeled: DOG CHICKEN."

Farmer H did NOT make it home before I returned. So I was tasked with putting that DOG CHICKEN in FRIG II, and somehow making him know not to eat it. I couldn't use the same rectangular Chinese containers. So I put it in a black plastic container just like them, which doesn't have a lid. I put foil over the top, and propped the paper plate on top of it, after flipping that plate over and also marking the back of it with DOG CHICKEN.

Knowing Farmer H, he will think it's something special, due to the foil. Something we're holding out on him. He might try to eat it anyway, since it IS under his roof...

The One That Got Away, And The One That Didn't

Farmer H almost landed a keeper on Saturday night. He was Facebook shopping, and saw that a lady in downtown Hillmomba had a collection of fishing plugs (yes, they're also called fishing lures) for sale. He sent her a text or Facebook thingy saying he wanted to buy them, but she said another guy had already made a deal with her to buy them for $20.

Farmer H offered her $30, but she said she wouldn't go back on a deal. She did say that if the guy didn't show up by 7:00, she would meet Farmer H at his Storage Unit Store to sell them to him. The Pony and I didn't know all this, because Farmer H was being secretive with his phone. Meaning that he was just tapping away at it, and not playing loud music watching videos that he thinks are funny.

Anyhoo... Farmer H had just finished his supper of two smoked sausages, and Ruffles chips with French Onion dip. He was also down to the dregs of a Wild Turkey, lime, and Diet Shasta drink that I'd made for him. In fact, I'd just used the little Wild Turkey left in the bottle to refill his red Solo cup with another Diet Shasta. We were all chatting, the two of them in the living room, me in the kitchen washing up dishes.

"Oh, I might be leaving here in a minute."

"WHAT? Where are you going?"

"To meet a lady up at my storage unit for some fishing plugs."

"NO! You just had that drink! You're not driving anywhere!"

"Mom's right, Dad. You don't need to be driving."

"I wouldn't drive over to Bill-Paying Town now, but I can drive 10 minutes up to my unit."

"EXACTLY! If you can't do one, you can't do the other. It's DARK! You have no business out there driving!"

"Aww, I just had supper with it. And it's another 45 minutes until 7:00. I'll be fine."

"But I just mixed you a SECOND drink! You never have a second drink, and on the night you DO, you think you're going to drive somewhere!"

"I haven't even touched it! See? Right there. The glass is still full. I'll wait until 7:00 to see what she says. She's calling me either way."

Thank the Gummi Mary, the other guy showed up and bought the fishing plugs! Farmer H would probably have been okay by 7:00, having imbibed on a full stomach, and having 45 minutes to metabolize the alcohol. Plus the exercise of telling us all about his impending deal, and how he was sure he could pass a breathalyzer, but maybe not a roadside test, because he can't balance well with vision in only one eye.

I'm not sure if The Pony and I would have let him leave. Maybe we would have conducted our own test first. The Pony was in no condition to drive him, having swilled some wine with the burritos he made for his own supper. I don't like to be behind the wheel after dark these days, since my dizziness after the ear infection comes and goes.

Anyhoo... those fishing plugs slipped from Farmer H's grasp, but Farmer H did not get away!

Not A Good Day For Mrs. HM

Saturday was not so great. Farmer H saw a need to email me at 9:00, and call me at 11:30. Those are beauty-sleeping hours for Mrs. HM! He made sure to tell me that he had changed plans, and was heading to the city a few hours early to pick up a vanity for Bathroom 2 of Pony House. Since I figured he would be coming home with it, I made sure I was up by 12:15. Yet he did not come home until around 4:00, as I was headed to town.

While in town, I stopped by Orb K for scratchers. The lady who completed her transaction ahead of me CAME BACK as I was doing my business. Saying she was supposed to use some club benefit to pay for the soda and coffee she had purchased along with gas. So she kind of monopolized my clerk, who said he could help her in a minute. But she went to the two other clerks, who were playing with their phones and gossiping. Then she came back to MY clerk, kind of crowding at me, saying, "Excuse me, Ma'am... Sir... Ma'am." And grabbed her phone, which she had left lying on the counter by the card scanner. Seriously. Mrs. HM looks NOTHING like a SIR. And she was not talking to my clerk.

Back home, I attempted to help Farmer H pay his sales tax online. But as with everything he expects me to do for FREE for his business, he did not give me enough information. He seemed downright surly when I asked (okay, TOLD) him to come in and sit by me at the kitchen table to tell me what he needed. Then the state website did not give the option he needed, which was to pay yearly instead of monthly or weekly. So that effort was futile. He wrote down three phone numbers to call for more specifics. Good luck getting a state employee to actually talk to you over the phone!

Once Farmer H left, The Pony was on the way home. He wanted me to start his bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom. Its plug has been cantankerous of late. You push it down, but rather than latching, it SEEMS to latch, but leaves a tiny unsealed space. Pony says you have to twist it, but that wasn't working for me. The tub started filling, so I let it go until The Pony got home to fiddle with it. I don't relish standing on my head reaching over the side into the middle of the triangle to mess with it.

I was chatting with The Pony at the kitchen counter, having poured myself a red Solo cup of my new mediocre elixir, SHASTA DIET COLA. I found it at Save A Lot, after discovering that they don't carry Coke products, only Pepsi and store brands and Shasta. It's surprisingly near to Diet Coke. I had added some fresh lime juice and a dash of sugar. Because of course you add sugar to diet soda, heh, heh. To cut the lime tartness.

Anyhoo... I was picking up the lime squeezer to rinse, when I KNOCKED OVER MY FULL GLASS OF SUGARY LIMEY DIET SHASTA! Part went in my tray, getting on the checkbook register that I was taking down to my lair for balancing. Thank the Gummi Mary, I had it in a sleeve that was once an envelope sent out with cash through the bank tube. I grabbed the register and two Pony House receipts out of it before they got wet.

My scratchers were saved. The Pony got some paper towels and mopped up the floor portion. That left me with the stove top and crack between stove and counter. Sunday I'll have to take out the burner reflector thingy and wash it, before The Pony decides to cook up some taco chicken.

In my lair, I knocked three envelopes off the top of my New Delly tower while putting those two Pony House receipts with the rest. The envelopes fell behind the monitor, into a nest of dust bunnies.

I hope tomorrow is better. Wait. It already IS tomorrow...

What The Market Will Bear

Farmer H took The Pony's two pair of uniform pants back to the seamstress on Thursday, with instructions for a 28-inch inseam. When he came home, he said, 

 

"The Pony owes me $12."

 

"I thought you said it was $4 a pair."

 

"It WAS, when I took my jeans. I guess prices went up. Everything has gone up!"

 

"Or else she thinks somebody who works for the USPS must be rollin' in dough, and able to pay more than somebody who buys their jeans at Goodwill."

 

Anyhoo... Farmer H went to pick up the pants on Friday, but he got there after 4:00, and she was closed. That's okay. The Pony is off Sunday and Monday. So he won't need his pants this weekend.

Speaking Of Lucky...

After so many days (4!) at home without my magical elixir, due to my sore back, plus the week before when the Gas Station Chicken Store had the wrong size cups... I was sad to wake up to SNOW on Thursday. 

Normally, a little snow would not keep me from town. But the wind chill was 5 degrees, and I am cold all the time anyway. PLUS, The Pony texted that the town roads were not good around 8:00. Farmer H said I could probably make it. Not sure if he was being helpful, or just trying to kill me again.

Anyhoo... The Pony said conditions had improved with the sunlight by noon. So I figured I'd risk it, since the snow had stopped. Otherwise I'd have stayed home, because The Pony has commandeered my long ice scraper brush thingy, and Farmer H has "forgotten" to get him one for himself in the past two months that I've been asking. Not only do I need it for scraping the glass, but I use the brush for the slush that gets flung up on the running board, and freezes before my next trip to town. 

 

Oh, and also my defogger thingy doesn't work any more. Don't think Farmer H will get it fixed. He says it could be any number of things wrong, not just a fuse problem, and could eat up a lot of money. Basically a slap in the face to my needs, or pretty-sure trying another way to kill me.

Anyhoo... since the sun was out, and I didn't think anything would build up on the windshield to block my vision... I showered and dressed in three layers to fetch my 44 oz Diet Coke. I had a knit shirt, a long-sleeved cotton shirt like my regular town wear, and my everyday jacket. And pants, of course. I don't go out bare-rumpused! I was actually toasty warm except for my hands. Don't know where all my gloves go. Probably having a party under the floorboards with 12 years of school rulers and scissors from two boys.

The roads after our gravel were not bad. The main ones clear. But the Save A Lot parking lot was treacherous. Couldn't even see the lines for the parking spaces. I basically went in to buy milk so The Pony could make his hot chocolate he won at the Christmas Eve Games at the home of my sister the ex-ex-mayor's wife. 

 

And some scratchers out of the machine to put in Genius's letter, since I had forgotten to buy them a day ahead, not knowing about the incoming snow. Sweet Gummi Mary! Why would I watch the weather these days? It's not like I'm going to get a snow day!

Anyhoo... I got myself a couple tickets as well, and some for The Pony. His were losers. I was pleased to see that mine won $10. It was the first ticket I scratched. I set it aside like I always do, happy that I at least had won $10 back. I followed that with a $3 and $6 winner. In scanning them, something was not right!

 

The phone app said it was a winner, but I saw a $5. Huh. It showed right there on the ticket that I had the WIN symbol, with $10. What in the Not-Heaven?

 

Oops! It was the 5X WIN SYMBOL! The regular WIN symbol is a flat dollar bill. I'm so used to not winning lately that this bit of excitement had escaped me. And it was sitting there for a couple hours, all $50-winny, unbeknownst to me! Guess I found one of those loaded $50 prizes!

The 44 oz Diet Coke was pretty good, too! I'm glad I layered up and went to town. Even though I had to wear a pair of blue auction socks on my hands.

Is Mrs. HM Lucky, Or What?

The correct answer is OR WHAT. Oh, Mrs. HM is lucky enough on her scratchers, but today's topic goes beyond lucky. Beyond coincidence, which you know Mrs. HM is not a believer in.

Several years ago, I kept getting emails several times a week telling me I had won a national lottery. Not in this country, of course. Funny how I had won, without even entering! Can't get much luckier than that! Of course I didn't respond. Didn't click on any links. Mrs. HM knows her way around a scam. The first clue was that every email was addressed to GLORIA. Which is not Mrs. HM's name.

Well. On December 26, I started getting emails from Green Dot. I've never heard of Green Dot. I'm sure I'll get even more stuff now that I've named them here. Anyhoo... the first email said: 

Thank you for signing up for the Green Dot Card. Your personalized Green Dot Card is on the way. 

 

Your new personalized card is on its way and will arrive in 2 weeks!

What to do now:

* Continue using (and reloading) the card you have for now

 

* When your personalized card arrives, be sure to activate it before use. This unlocks the exclusive features like Online Bill Pay and Photo Check Deposit.

* Once activated, the money on your temporary card will automatically be transferred to your personalized card.

Oh, REALLY? Funny how I never signed up for a Green Dot Card. So I don't have a temporary card, and I most certainly have never put money on such a card. Sweet Gummi Mary! I was getting 2 or 3 emails a day, up to December 31. The last two saying there had been some problems with the system, but then that account services were back up and running now, to retry activation and registration. From my friends at Green Dot.

 

I tried checking out the Green Dot Bank with the BBB (Better Business Bureau). But got a message on their website saying "This profile is currently being updated. You will not be able to read any existing reviews at this time, but you may leave a review." There must be a lot of recent "reviews" for the Green Dot people.

Heh, heh. Something fishy going on here. More like something PHISHY! My first clue was that every email started out by saying HI LARRY.

I wonder if Larry knows Gloria.

Mrs. HM's Special Purpose

We all have our special purpose in life. Mine involves keeping Farmer H from doing (too many) stupid things, keeping The Pony alive, and interacting with weirdos and randoms in my quest for a daily 44 oz Diet Coke.

My back is better! Several hours of OPC (Old People Chair) heat and vibration, and probably the passing of four days since my initial injury, combined to make me whole again on Tuesday! It's great to feel like a normal person. As normal as Mrs. HM gets, anyway.

I had some items to pick up at Country Mart. Farmer H's Diet Mountain Dew was going off sale Wednesday, so I had to procure more. Bananas, hot dog buns, wine, limes, Ritz crackers, frozen french fries, and of course scratchers. I hadn't been able to buy them since FRIDAY!!!

Anyhoo... I was scanning some previous winners into the lottery machine for credit. An Old Man walked along behind me. He stopped. Muttered through his mask, "Huh. I haven't done that in quite some time." He doddered over to the other lottery machine on my left. I got two PowerBall tickets ($570 MILLION on Wednesday, I think!) and two Cash4Life for The Pony, and a mini crossword for me. Then I headed over to the other machine. You can't put all your eggs in one basket!

Old Man was fiddling around. I parked my cart and leaned on it, checking my phone for Pony notifications, while I waited for him to be done. It was hard to say if that would happen, or next Christmas would arrive first. Old Man turned to me. Beseeching.

"Can you tell me how to buy a ticket out of here? I put in my dollar."

He had touched the screen for the ticket he wanted, and the choices popped up. All he had to do was touch the circle for ONE, and the machine would spit it out. But in turning towards me, the machine thought he was done, and closed up the choices. He looked back at it and was baffled.

"Sure. Touch that ticket you want. Again. Because the machine went back to the beginning. Your dollar is still in there."

He poked it.

"Now, touch where it says ONE."

He did, and his ticket came out. I hobbled back to my leaning cart. Old Man was going to scratch it right there.

"Can you tell me how to play it?"

He shuffled over to me at my cart/walker. Closer than six feet! But he was a man in need, so I helped.

"See these two top symbols? You scratch them off to see the winning numbers. Then you scratch these five symbols to see if you have a matching number. If you do, you win."

Old Man started scratching with his FINGERNAIL on the end of the index finger of his arthritic hand. 

"I got a 1. And a 14. Now these? I matched. No. Wait. That's a 13."

"Here. Uncover that whole number under the 13. You can't see what it is. OH. It's a 14. You win. Scratch there where it says PRIZE. See? You've won a ticket. You can take that to a store to cash it in, or you can scan it at the machine, and it will give you a dollar credit to buy another ticket from it."

"Can you show me?"

 

"First you have to uncover the barcode on the bottom of your ticket. Here. Let me scratch it. There! Now stick it under here, and the red light will shine on the barcode. No. Hold it closer. Hear that beep? See on the screen? It says you have won a dollar. Do you want to spend it in the machine? Push the green button that says YES. Now, there's your dollar credit. All you have to do is pick another ticket."

Sweet Gummi Mary! Bless his heart. Old Man was poking a $2 selection. That was grayed-out and said SOLD OUT.

"Oh, you have to pick a ticket that costs a dollar. One of those two on the bottom right."

Old Man picked the same ticket as before. He was looking it over. I stepped up to the machine.

"While you're doing that, I'm going to scan my own now."

"I have a 5 and a 14..."

"Play it the same way as before."

"I'm going to be here all day! Uh. I didn't match the 5 or the 14."

"Well, you didn't win this time."

"Okay. Thank you."

I didn't really mind helping Old Man. It's my calling! What I was meant to do! I told Farmer H about it when I got home.

"Why do these people always pick ME?"

"They sense that you'll help them, HM. They can tell."

I guess you can take the teacher out of teaching, but you can't take the teaching out of the teacher.